Should she approach him? Or should she wait for him to find her? She didn’t think she’d have the courage to approach him. What if he noticed that her hands were shaking?
She waited by the wine table, collecting her wits while he chatted with some of the other groomsmen. She stole glances in his direction and even from where she stood she could see his huge smile. He looked wonderful, absolutely gorgeous. He’d quit gelling his hair, and his natural dark curls looked loose and boyish around his forehead. The slicked look had never done much for him; on many occasions she’d gently tried to convince him to bail the Mafia hit man appearance for a more relaxed image. But he’d been attached to his hair gel the same way her mother was attached to nude stockings.
She’d broken up with him sixteen months ago because she’d needed to figure out exactly what she wanted. He’d brought up marriage, but at the time she wasn’t exactly dying to race to the altar with him. There were a few things about him that bothered her. Though he was a wonderful boyfriend, he could be a little uptight. Selfish was the word she had used at the time. She knew she could never change him. People just don’t change based on some coercion from their significant other. Though she loved him, she didn’t feel it was fair to string him along while she tried to figure out if she - could live with the things she didn’t like about him.
She remembered how he’d called her five times a day for a month, trying to convince her to give their relationship another chance, and how hard it had been to resist him. He’d finally given up and moved to San Francisco to pursue pharmaceutical sales.
She’d had this dreamy notion that there was some perfect soul waiting for her to find him. Someone with everything she wanted and more, someone who did nothing to annoy her. Oh, how horribly wrong she’d been. Six months in the dating pool and she - couldn’t even remember what Mason had done to bug her. She appreciated him more than ever.
There would never be another Mason. There would never be someone who made frames from driftwood, or bought them tickets to Las Vegas two hours before their plane took off. He was creative and spontaneous and after all her bad dates she realized that Mason’s flaws paled in comparison to the yetis she’d been exposed to.
Now she wanted him more than ever. She figured it was partially because breaking up with him had been her decision. She - couldn’t stand living with the thought that she had made such a drastic mistake.
After a godawful blind date with a musician who actually turned out to be a church choir director she had summoned up the nerve to call Mason. He’d been friendly but distant, and who could blame him? She had nearly broken the man. A week later he’d called her drunk, crying, wanting to know how she could dangle his emotions on a string. She had created more of a mess than she realized when she’d taken her break, and the damage was nearly irreparable.
She was rummaging for a piece of gum in her purse when she heard his voice. “There you are!” His tone was too friendly, the same tone of voice she would use with one of her girlfriends. He was holding her shoe. “Lose something?” Even though she wanted to die of embarrassment she couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“I’m just thankful you don’t have a black eye,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
He opened his arms.
“I heard you weren’t coming,” she said, giving him a hug. His body felt warm, but stiff and unfamiliar as if he were hugging his Aunt Beatrice whom he saw every ten years at a family holiday.
“I couldn’t miss the engagement party, so I waited on standby and I got lucky.” Naturally she began to fantasize that he’d perhaps waited standby so he could see her. “It’s not often that one of your best friends gets married. Or that you see your ex-girlfriend shimmying to Billy Idol.” His tone was playful but she couldn’t control the fire that was burning her cheeks.
“Who were those guys you were dancing with anyway?” he asked. His tone was still playful, but she thought she detected a tiny little hint of jealousy. He’d always been protective of her. At times she’d loved it. It had excited her when he’d asked fifty questions about her cute UPS guy, or told drunken stragglers at the bar to beat it when they hit on her. Sometimes it had been sexy. Other times it had driven her crazy. Like the time she’d come out of the shower to find him going through her wallet.
“They’re Ben’s cousins. Matt and Bill.”
“Ah yes.” He nodded. “I’ve heard all about them.”
They caught up, chatting about their jobs and families. She asked questions only to be polite. The truth was, she knew everything about his parents and job from Claire. His father had remarried, and Mason’s job couldn’t be better. He’d bought a brand-new Lexus; rumor had it he was in the highest tax bracket in California.
“I heard you got a dog,” he said.
“How’d you know?”
“Claire told me.”
He’d been asking about her, and Claire had forgotten to mention this? She couldn’t blame her, with the wedding and everything. But for God’s sake, if Mason was asking about her she needed to be notified at once. “She’s adorable. You’ll have to see her sometime.” She hadn’t meant to say the last part. The words had slipped out, but she was sort of glad she had suggested he meet Katie. His reaction would be telling.
“Yeah, that would be great.” Not a bad reaction, but was he just being nice? They spent several more minutes catching up and she started to feel disappointed when she saw people leaving. The evening would come to an end soon and she would have to say good-bye to him until the next event.
“Where are you staying tonight?” she asked.
“I have a reservation at the Hilton down the street. I should probably call a cab.”
“Why don’t I drop you off at your hotel?” she offered. “We’re in the middle of suburbia—you’ll end up waiting hours for a cab. I’ll be going right past your hotel.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She wasn’t, but sensed this question might lead to something more. “I could eat.”
“You mind if we stop for Mexican food?”
She’d always believed in fate. Things always worked out for a reason. Missing his flight may have been the best thing that had ever happened. It was the work of God. If he’d made his flight he - would’ve arrived when all the food was still out on the buffet, but since he was late he had missed dinner. The food had long since been wrapped and refrigerated, and Mrs. Caradini had been too caught up in Frank Sinatra to bring it back out. Not only would she get to spend more time with him, but they’d be alone. She reached for her car keys.
If they were in her neighborhood near the beach they would’ve found a dozen places that catered to night owls. But they were in Rancho Bernardo, an upscale community with golf courses every
two miles. He suggested they eat at the hotel after a half-hour of hunting for a twenty-four-hour Alberto’s.
She doubted there would be a restaurant open this late at his hotel, but if it meant spending more time with him she was willing to play along.
He checked into his room, and the bellman told him that all the restaurants were closed but they could try room service.
“Why don’t you come up for a midnight snack?”
This was going better than she had ever imagined.
She wasn’t very hungry, and ordered French onion soup. She watched him devour a club sandwich with fries, and a garden salad drenched in blue cheese. He had the metabolism of a high-performance athlete. But as far as she knew he only lifted weights a few days a week. He was truly blessed with the luxury of pigging out at one A.M. whenever he pleased, and never gaining an ounce on his perfectly sculpted body. It was a gift from God that she had definitely been deprived of. She worked hard to keep her small butt. If she ate the way he did, her back end would be the size of a dump truck.
He kicked off his loafers and tossed his blazer over a chair, and she wished she were staying with him. She longed to peel off her uncomfortable clothes and slip into one of his oversized T-
shirts like she used to.
He pulled a bottled water for each of them from the minibar and they sipped and chatted about all the things he loved to do in San Francisco. Conan O’Brien cracked jokes in the background, but they hardly paid attention to the show.
Listening to him talk about how much he loved the Bay Area made her feel discouraged. She’d sort of been hoping that he’d say how much he missed San Diego. Hearing how settled he was didn’t provide much hope.
However, hope came quickly when he leaned over and kissed her. Tasting him made her feel as if he’d left yesterday. She felt as if no time had passed. He was the kind of guy who found more pleasure in pleasing her than in meeting his own needs first. He knew all the right places to touch her. He had been in long relationships before, and she’d found that men who were in longer, more secure relationships seemed to know more about women as opposed to men who just had casual flings. He moved his hand up her shirt and barely touched the tip of her nipple with his fingertip, lightly brushing his skin over hers. She felt herself explode with need. He then unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it down her thighs.
The evening rapidly shot above any previous expectations. She’d hoped for a good solid conversation with him at the party—that he’d notice how fit and tan she was. She wanted him to leave San Diego wanting more of her. So far they’d practically had a date and now they were headed for sex. This wasn’t going badly, but having sex with him was also sending him back to San Francisco with little to desire. Physically, she was dying to feel his naked body move over hers. But her mind knew that giving him everything was giving him too much. It could be the last word as far as he was concerned. She was the one who had broken it off and it might give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could get her back whenever he wanted.
“Wait,” she said.
He hovered over her.
“I just . . . I’m not ready for this yet. It might complicate everything.” She said this partly because she was afraid it would complicate everything and partly because she wanted to see what his reaction would be.
He pulled back, and she wondered if he had lost his erection as quickly as the playful look faded from his face. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t want to complicate anything either.” He stood and reached for his pants.
This wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. She’d sort of wished he’d said, “Complicate what? We’re together again and that’s all that matters. Love is never complicated.”
She wanted to know what he thought was so complicated. What did he fear? Or not fear? And did he miss her too? But she - didn’t know how to ask him all these things without coming on too strong.
“Do you ever think about me?” he asked.
She was grateful that he had opened the door for discussion. “Yes. All the time.” He was silent, so she continued: “What about you?”
“Sometimes.” He looked down at his feet.
“Well, what do you think about?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I miss you.”
Fantastic! She tried to keep from laying kisses all over his face and telling him how much she had missed him, and to go grab a condom after all. “I miss you—”
He cut her off. “But sometimes I wonder . . . I don’t know. I have a lot of questions.”
Something about his tone made her heart sink. “Questions about what?”
“I just wonder if . . . if maybe we are supposed to be together, or maybe we’re not.”
“I do too,” she said. “You have no idea. Sometimes I think I made the biggest mistake.”
“Do you know how hard those months were for me after we broke up?”
“I’m sorry.” She suddenly felt conscious of her exposed breast. The moment had been ruined. She pulled her shirt back on. “I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”
“I know you did. And I would’ve taken you back in a second if you had just given me the chance. But you wouldn’t. A lot of time has passed now.”
“I know. But it doesn’t seem that long.”
“Maybe not to you. But I’ve changed, and you’ve probably changed too. I just . . . What I’m saying is that I miss you too, but I can’t jump back into anything with you. Look, I’m sorry. It may have been a mistake for me to bring you back here tonight.”
“No. It wasn’t.” She felt a lump in her throat, and for a moment thought that she actually might start crying. If he felt that seeing her was a mistake, there was no way he was going to be prepared for what she had in mind—kick-starting their relationship within the next week or two.
He squeezed her knee. “I’m not saying that it’s over for good. I’m just saying that seeing you is really confusing and I don’t know what I want. You’ve been out of my life for over a year. But on the other hand I don’t know if you were ever really out of my life. I just think we both need time to think. It’s probably best that we don’t rush into anything yet.”
Yet was the key word in his sentence. Yet meant that he wasn’t completely writing her off. This she could live with. If it took him time to figure it out, she’d wait.
CHAPTER TWO
“Eye yi yyi yi yiiiiii! Palooooma.” She sang with a Spanish accent as she drove to her parents’ house in Torrey Pines. As soon as she dropped Katie off she would be on her way to Mexico. Margaritas. Mariachi singers serenading her poolside. Cheap quesadillas. And a splendid girls’ weekend of fun was what she looked forward to. She was already wearing her bikini under her shorts and tank top.
Her father was swinging a golf club in the foyer when she entered. “There’s my girl!” Meg smiled at him, but quickly realized he was referring to the dog.
“Oh! Would you look at how precious she is?” Her mother beamed as she entered holding a bone-shaped cookie. She was glad her parents liked her dog. But, hello?
Her father let Katie lick his face for a moment before turning to Meg. “Make sure you get insurance,” he said. “The federales down there will take all your money and jewelry if you don’t.”
“I’m actually not driving in Mexico. We’re all meeting at Claire’s and some of her friends are driving, but I’ll make sure whoever drives stops for Mexican insurance.”
“I don’t know why you girls would even want to go to Mexico,” her mother said. “It’s just so dangerous. Lemme show you something.” She hurried off.
While Meg waited, her father gave her a long lecture about all the hazards she might encounter south of the border. “It’s not like San Diego. You’re going into a foreign country. Borderline Third World down there and the police are extremely corrupt.”
Little did they know she’d snuck out of her bedroom window on a regular basis during her senior year of high school so she - could go drink in Tijuana with all her wild friends. She’d been there more times than them.
“Read this,” her mother said when she returned, holding out a newspaper clipping dated three days earlier.
The headline read “Kidnapping Rampant Along Borders.” The article proceeded to explain that hundreds of innocent Americans had been kidnapped at U.S. borders and held for ransom by drug cartels.
“Okay, now you are scaring me.”
“Good. Why don’t you just tell Claire you’re not feeling well?”
“I can’t cancel. It’s Claire’s bachelorette party. And besides, we’re not walking across the border. We’re driving. And we’re staying in a really nice hotel near Ensenada. It’s not like I’ll be hanging out in the heart of TJ.” However, she was a little concerned for Mason, who was camping on the Ensenada coast with the rest of the groomsmen. Ben was having his bachelor weekend in Mexico as well. They’d be right outdoors for anyone to rob or kidnap them. Her anxiety suddenly felt overwhelming. Again, she remembered there was a big difference between poverty-stricken Tijuana and the foamy remote coast of Ensenada. They’d be miles from crime.
She decided it was time for good-byes, then continued on to Pacific Beach to meet Claire and the rest of her friends. She kn
ew Mason was probably in San Diego by now, getting ready to head to Mexico as well for the bachelor party. It made her heart ache to know that he’d probably flown in that morning, or even worse, the night before and hadn’t called her. She hadn’t heard a peep from him ever since the engagement party. If he wanted to get back together with her, he definitely wasn’t racing into anything. Claire had said he probably just needed time and that he’d told Ben he’d enjoyed seeing her. But if he’d enjoyed it so much, why hadn’t he called her?
She knew it was going to drive her crazy knowing he’d be minutes away all weekend and she wouldn’t be able to see him. Couldn’t Claire and Ben have a coed weekend?
She’d been a bridesmaid in two other weddings and had concluded that most of the fun of being in them was meeting the rest of the wedding party. With the engagement party, the shower, the bachelorette, all the gown fittings, and the rehearsal dinner, by the time everyone reached the wedding it was if they had traveled around the globe together. Meg had never met Claire’s friends from college. In fact, she hadn’t met Claire until after college, through
Mason and Ben. They’d gotten pedicures and had girl talk while the boys watched basketball.
The screen door was unlocked at Claire’s condo so she let herself in. Several girls occupied Claire’s couch and were so engrossed in their conversation that they hardly noticed Meg when she stepped inside. “Ahem.” She jingled her keys while shoving them in her purse.
A couple of them glanced at her, but continued chatting away. They were earthy girls with freckled skin and hair spun from wheat-toned threads. They possessed a J. Crew type of beauty. Like the models in the clothing catalogue, they were simple and boyish. There probably wasn’t a drop of concealer in the room except on Meg’s face and the stash she had in her makeup bag. She felt girly and small around them. They all had long legs, and she noticed that a couple didn’t even shave.
“You would not believe how awesome Greece was,” one girl said.
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