Plan Overboard (Toronto Series #14)

by Wardell, Heather

  "Come here."

  He leans in and I kiss him, trying to express all my gratitude and awe and happiness at how good he is to us.

  "I'll change her any time," he breathes as our lips part, and I laugh.

  He winks at me then says, "So? How'd the planning go?"

  I look down at Jenna's head and her now-blissful face then up at Austin. I take a deep breath, pushing away my fear, and say it. "I'm going for it."

  He draws back, and the pride in his eyes warms my heart and soothes my stomach. "Then let's make it happen."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Art shakes his head and smiles at me. "You amaze me, lady. Austin used to go out and party with us every weekend, but since you guys got together we haven't seen him once other than here. You must have amazing powers of persuasion."

  He doesn't say, "You must be amazing in bed," but it's in his smile.

  Little does he know that we haven't gone further than our intense kisses. On Wednesday my doctor gave me the all-clear to have sex, but I haven't told Austin that because it feels weird to announce it when we haven't even let our hands wander yet.

  Austin did let me know, a few days after we got together, that he knew women usually wait at least six weeks after having a baby before resuming sex. He did this by telling me the horrific story of his mother actually doing a calculation for Nicholas of when he'd get, as she put it, "back in the saddle". We laughed over it, shaking our heads at Linda's forthrightness and rudeness, but I understood his deeper meaning and appreciated his subtle way of letting me know he wasn't expecting anything.

  I'd sure I'd love sex with Austin, but we haven't made any more of a commitment than we did that first day in the coffee shop and if we do have sex I want it to mean more than just physical pleasure. I did buy condoms, though, on my way home from the doctor, because whenever we're ready to make love I don't want anything to stop us.

  Austin's cheeks redden and he says to Art, "She's just a lot nicer to me than you are."

  Art laughs. "I bet she is."

  "Which is cool," Chris says, stepping in neatly to cut off what looks like an angry reply from Austin at Art's suggestive tone, "but we do like seeing you too. Any chance of you coming out tonight? We're going to Light."

  I know Light is a big dance club down by Lake Ontario but I've never been there. That doesn't stop me imagining the place, dimly lit with music pounding like tribal drums, and Austin attracting every woman's attention.

  My imagination goes into overdrive when Art adds, "Not just us, either. Shania's going to be there," and Austin stiffens and glances over at me.

  "Not that he cares about that now," Chris says quickly, his tone screaming, "Shut up, man."

  "Of course not," Art says, smiling at me. "It's just funny, for ages Austin was single and Shania wasn't, and now I guess it's the other way around."

  I have never heard Austin mention someone named Shania and now that feels far too significant. They've been trying to get together?

  "Art, drop dead," Austin says, pulling his cymbals out of their bags.

  "I take it that's a no on tonight?"

  It sounded like one to me too, but Austin glances over at me in a way that seems to say, "Wish I could but I can't."

  The idea of sending him out to a night club with Shania, who I'm picturing as model-gorgeous with a spectacular figure that bears none of my lingering extra pounds from the pregnancy, makes me want to run screaming, but we're not officially together and even if we were I wouldn't own him so I feel like I have to say, "Go ahead if you want."

  "You got permission," Art crows. "So you're in, right?"

  Austin doesn't look at him, because he's still looking at me. "You sure you don't mind?"

  "Of course," I say, with a nonchalance I hope they can't see through. "We'll survive without you for one night. I need to practice anyhow."

  Chris raises his eyebrows. "For what?"

  Wishing I hadn't added the last sentence, I give the guys a quick explanation of my previous orchestra failure and my current second chance, ending with, "I'm having my first lesson with my old teacher tomorrow and I need to be ready."

  Austin winds his arm around my shoulders. "You are. You've done nothing but practice since you talked to him on Wednesday."

  I move involuntarily closer to him, needing comfort at the memory of that conversation.

  Marty had sounded distant as he informed me he had a full roster of students, but I'd felt like he wanted to take me on again so I basically begged him, which led to the even greater awkwardness of his telling me he'd raised his rates to a level I truly couldn't afford for the multiple times a week I'd need to see him before the audition.

  As I started to tell him that, feeling sad and embarrassed and also a tiny bit relieved that the decision was being taken out of my hands, Austin began shaking his head wildly then said out loud, "You can do it. Go for it. I've got you covered."

  In the face of his insistence I did tell Marty I was in, but then Austin and I had a spirited discussion for fifteen minutes before I was able to accept the money from him. I only allowed myself to do it because he insisted he'd never wanted to pay for anyone before and he liked it so he wanted me to let him.

  His sweetness, as always, overwhelms me as I think about it, and I really don't want him to go out with his friends tonight. They're all single, but he's the best-looking of them, and this Shania is no doubt planning to snag him tonight.

  But I knew right from the moment I met him that he likes having fun, and he deserves more of it than he gets sitting in my apartment with me and Jenna. Besides, if I can't trust him I might as well lose him now before that would be even more painful, so I say, "True, but I'll get a little more in tonight."

  He nods but still looks uncomfortable. "Okay. Well, I guess we should play."

  I hadn't wanted to come along at all today, since I could have spent these hours slaving over the Mozart concerto I need to play in the audition's first round, but Austin insisted I needed a break and though I argued I know I do. The audition music is playing in my head constantly, and spending a little while hearing something else has appeal.

  Once we're all set up, Art says, "Shall we start with a little Bohemian Rhapsody, gentlemen and lady?"

  The others agree but I'm taken aback.

  "Problem?"

  I shake my head. "It's just... I worked on the other songs, the ones we did last week. To make sure I'd be good at them this time. We're not doing them again ever?"

  Art shrugs. "Someday, sure. And we can today if you want. But yeah, usually we only do stuff once and move on to something new. That's what improv's all about, babe."

  Austin turns sharply to him. "I don't call her 'babe', man, so you shouldn't either."

  Art makes a big deal of backing off, while I realize that Austin hasn't been flirting with other women for a while. He used to be so chatty and friendly with waitresses and cashiers and every other woman we encountered, calling them 'honey' and 'sweetheart', and while he's certainly still polite the sexy banter is gone. Except with me.

  I like that, a lot, and I also like that he's a little possessive of me, but knowing he's going out tonight without me dulls my happiness. How will he talk to Shania, the one he's been wanting "for ages"? Without me there, will the old flirty Austin take over?

  Not surprisingly, I don't do a great job improvising at first since I can't stop worrying, but Chris suggests we go back to the songs I learned and after that my confidence is high enough that I do pretty well, although I take a bit of time off in the middle when Jenna gets hungry. As we pack up, Patrick says, "We should go out for dinner. I've got no food at home."

  "You never have food," Art says. "But sure. Near Light?"

  The other guys nod, but Austin looks at me and doesn't answer.

  I'm frustrated that he so clearly wants to go but keeps making me say it's okay. I don't want to say that. But I don't want him with me wishing he was out, so I say, "Makes sense," since it does. Kn
owing that Jenna and I would just be in their way, I add, "We'll order Thai. Well, I will anyhow."

  Austin, who hates Thai food, chuckles. "Good idea." He smoothes Jenna's wispy locks as she lies before us in her carrier. "Take care of your mommy, peach," he says, smiling at her.

  She gives him the vacant but wise stare that's her specialty, then to my surprise flashes him a full smile.

  He laughs and grabs my hand. "Did you see that?"

  "Totally." I grin at him, squeezing his hand, then at Jenna. "Do it again, baby."

  She stares at me, then her face breaks into another smile. She's been making smile-like expressions for a while, but these ones light up her face right into her eyes and she's definitely doing them on purpose.

  Austin whips out his phone and takes a series of pictures as she shoots him yet another smile, then grabs my hand again. "She's brilliant," he says. "What a smart girl."

  I lean into him, then startle when Art clears his throat. I'd forgotten about the other guys.

  "What's the deal with all the pictures, Austin? You must have a million of them by now."

  Chris says, "My brother took tons of his kids too. Made him feel like at least he was doing something useful."

  "Is that why—" I begin at the same time as Art says, "But Jenna's not—"

  Art stops, thanks to Chris elbowing him, and I stare at Austin. He blushes and looks away. "Yeah, well, at least she'll be well-documented. So, yeah. Anyhow."

  I want to tell him he's been useful in so many more ways than just taking pictures, but he doesn't look like he wants to hear it in front of his friends so I say, "We'll get out of your way. Have a good night," though the words choke me.

  "I have to take you home first," Austin says, turning back to me. "You don't have a car here."

  He's right, so I don't argue, but Chris says, "Why don't I drop the ladies off while you take your drums home? I assume they don't go to Corinne's place."

  I shake my head, and Austin says, "That does make sense. Corinne, okay with you?"

  I nod. "As long as we grab the base of her seat from your car."

  We get Jenna arranged in Chris's back seat using her carrier and the base Austin bought himself the week after we reconnected so he could drive us more easily, then Austin says, "Well. See you tomorrow. I..." He clears his throat. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says again, his eyes locked to mine.

  I know what he's trying to tell me, and though I'm not surprised my heart sinks. Since the first time he spent the night at my place he's done it more and more, and for the last week he's slept over every night, letting himself in after work with my spare set of apartment keys. My clarinet practice starts a few minutes after he arrives, and I play until I've worked through the night's planned assignment then hang out with him as late into the evening as I can stay awake before falling asleep loving knowing he's there. I won't get any of that tonight.

  It makes sense, since he'll no doubt be out late and probably be drunk, but I wish he'd come to me anyhow. Shania and the other women at Light will be on him like starving squirrels on the last acorn of the year. At least if he came home I'd know he didn't spend the night with—

  I close my hand tightly, digging my nails into my palm. I will not let my mind go there. I trust him. I do. Full stop. "Gotcha," I say. "Have fun."

  "You too." He leans in and kisses me briefly. "Bye."

  "Bye," I say, wishing it didn't feel so much like I'm saying goodbye to him forever, wishing his kiss didn't feel so distant, and get into Chris's car. He takes me home, chatting about the music we played and my audition and the all-jazz improv group with which he plays on Tuesday evenings. The casual conversation relaxes me, but when he's helping me get Jenna out of the car he clears his throat and I brace myself because it sounds like something big is coming. All he says, though, is, "Austin's a good guy. Even if he's got less rhythm than most drummers I know."

  I laugh, relieved. "He does lose the beat sometimes, doesn't he?"

  "Sad but true. But he's getting better." He hands me Jenna and pulls the seat's base from his car. "I've always thought he's a good guy. Seems goofy but he's decent underneath. Kind of guy you can rely on. Trust." He clears his throat again. "Anyhow. Want me to take this upstairs for you?"

  I feel like he's desperately trying to make me not worry about Austin's potential behavior tonight, and unfortunately all he's managing is to make me worry more, so I want him gone. "No, I'm fine, thanks."

  He smiles, looking glad to escape, and heads out, leaving me with Jenna and my clarinet case and a stomach full of terrified butterflies.

  *****

  At ten o'clock, after the worst evening I've had in forever, I sit in the living room listening to a recording of the Mozart piece, trying to pick up a few final nuances with which I can impress Marty tomorrow.

  I can't focus on the music, though. I haven't been able to focus on anything all night.

  I did order Thai food, and I watched two 'Sex and the City' episodes from my DVDs and quietly practiced my clarinet while Jenna slept, but I miss Austin so much that I didn't enjoy any of it.

  I keep imagining him smiling and winking at Shania, who in my mind has become better-looking and funnier than all four 'Sex and the City' ladies put together and far more inventive in bed even than Samantha. I see him slipping his arm around her shoulder the way he did to me the day we met, murmuring something seductive in her ear, leaning in to kiss her... I don't believe he's doing any of those things, especially not the last one, but my mind won't stop picturing him with another woman and I hate it.

  It's ridiculous, I know, to be so miserable when he's only been gone a few hours, but I can't help it. I just feel better when he's with me.

  Realizing the recording I had on has stopped and I barely heard a note, I give up and get ready for bed. I'm tired, but sleep doesn't come any easier than focusing on the music did, and I'm still wide awake at midnight when I hear my front door's lock turning slowly, almost sneakily.

  My heart racing, I slip out of bed and grab my phone before I slink out of the room in case I need to call the cops.

  I peek around the corner toward the front door, and relief fills me. "Austin!"

  He turns sharply. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

  "I wasn't asleep," I say, setting the phone on the hall table as I head toward him.

  He watches me approach, his eyes never leaving my face and fiercely intent, and when I reach him he puts his hands on my shoulders and says in a strangely rough voice, "Is it okay that I'm here? I said I wouldn't be."

  Is it okay? "It's totally fine. I'm surprised, but it's fine. It's great."

  He pulls me into his arms and holds me close. "Yeah," he says, his cheek against my hair, "to be honest I'm surprised too. I used to love going out with those guys, so I thought I'd enjoy it tonight. Get back to being 'the old me' for a while."

  My stomach twists, but he keeps talking. "I did enjoy dinner with them, but after that..." He shakes his head. "I hated the night club. It used to be so much fun but now... I guess it's just not me any more. So loud and busy, and all those women shrieking... all I could think about was coming home to see you and the peach."

  "We missed you too," I say, the word 'home' sending thrills through me, then honesty compels me to add, "I did, anyhow."

  He eases me back enough that he can look at my face and says with mock sadness, "Jenna wasn't devastated by my absence?"

  "Oh, I'm sure she was," I say, smiling so hard it hurts because I'm so glad he's back. "She's just better at distracting herself than I am."

  He laughs. "Give the girl a pacifier and nothing else matters." He cuddles me again. "I am glad I went, though. Proves to me I don't want any part of that life any more."

  "Not even Shania?" I say, then cringe. I was trying to be funny, but it didn't work. I didn't sound amused. I sounded jealous and obsessed.

  Well, if the tone fits...

  Austin smoothes his hand over my hair. "I... well, Art pretty much
told you we were into each other before. She as good as told me she still is, but I've got no interest at all."

  I press my face to his shoulder, so relieved I can't speak.

  "Can I tell you the truth?"

  "Of course," I murmur, wondering if I can handle whatever truth made that question sound so hesitant.

  "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm almost surprised. Not because you aren't amazing, but because I've never been with someone without ending up interested in someone else."

  Before I can come up with a response to this, he clears his throat and says, "I guess that's the difference between just being with someone and... and having a girlfriend."

  The word floods me with so much happiness that I can't do anything but hug him tighter.

  "We said this was a trial. Can we make it more permanent? Can I call you my girlfriend?"

  So adorably tentative. As if I'd say no. "Um, yeah. Absolutely. I'd love that. I've been wanting to say something myself but I didn't know how."

  We squeeze each other even closer, and stand in a beautiful warm silence until he says, "My first girlfriend," his voice filled with wonder. "Couldn't have picked a better one."

  "I didn't pick a bad boyfriend myself, " I say into his chest. "Though he does reek of beer."

  "Bet he tastes like it too."

  "Only one way to find out."

  He chuckles and kisses me, deep and sweet and slow, and he does taste like beer but I don't care at all.

  "You're making me feel drunk," I say breathlessly when the kiss ends.

  "Same to you." He winks at me. "Guess we'd better not drive. I took a taxi here, by the way. If you don't mind, I'll just pull out the couch and let you get your sleep."

  What I want to get is the feeling of falling asleep in his arms. "But that's heavy machinery. Not supposed to operate that when you're drunk. Better not take the chance."

  His mouth curves into a small smile. "Then where do you want me to sleep?"

  Uh oh. Does he think I'm suggesting we sleep together rather than just sleep in the same bed? I'm not sure this is how I want that to happen, and besides I haven't shaved my legs in a week.