“I’m surprised you showed up,” she murmurs, eyes still closed.
I told her I’d be waiting for her in here by the time she was done. I plan to prove to her that I’m a man of my word. A few late meetings and other minor incidences aside.
“It looked pretty cool last night when we walked through.”
It’s a large circular room, the walls painted a deep mustard, and the ceiling made to look as if we’re sitting outside watching the clouds. There’s a fountain at the center that resembles a waterfall.
“You have good taste,” I tell her.
Ada opens one eye and peeks at me.
“Sometimes I do.”
Cheeky Ada.
“Do you want to get going?” she asks.
I’m hungry, but I’m happy to stay here as long as she wants. Thankfully, she admits she’s a bit hungry too, so we change and head downtown for brunch. The downtown is exactly as she described. Consisting of about four blocks, it’s small but charmingly quaint.
After a brunch that would rival New York’s best restaurants, we walk toward the stores, passing an occasional ferry or boat on the right.
“I’ve been up this way dozens of times and never knew this town was here,” I comment.
Ada walks beside me in a pair of white shorts and a navy tank top with twisted straps. Her hair is pulled back in a low pony. She looks . . .
She’s so beautiful it’s almost unreal.
I’d take her hand if I were certain she’d let me. I don’t usually suffer from a lack of confidence, but there’s no denying Ada has thrown me off my game from the start.
“We’d come on a weekend for lunch or dinner or just to walk around. You hear about the bigger lakes, Seneca and Cayuga, but Skaneateles Lake has a lot going for it too. Kristina, my middle sister, always complained about coming. Said it was boring.”
“And what about your youngest sister?”
We slow down as we approach the first set of stores.
“Jenna? She was too young to have much of an opinion on the matter. She’s only nineteen now, but you’d never know it.” Ada changes her tone. “‘Ada-berry, will you please get me an iced tea? Extra ice cubes.’ She’s truly the baby of the family.”
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine, a ten-year difference. . . Ada-berry?”
“Don’t you dare start using that. And yeah, ten years. Jenna was a bit of an ‘oops’ child.”
“We have that in common,” I mutter before thinking better of it. “Sorry.” The last thing I want to do is kill the mood.
Ada looks away from the store she’d been looking at, which she clearly wants to check out. Her eyes land on mine, and she holds my gaze for a moment before saying forcefully, “Come on.”
Before I can object, she takes my hand and tugs me along. I can tell she’s done it organically, without realizing it, but as we walk past the lakefront ice cream shop down to the water’s edge, Ada suddenly becomes aware that our hands are still linked.
“I didn’t mean to . . .”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her.
Last night, we sat on the same bed but only touched once, at the end of the night, when I kissed her before leaving. I wanted more but had to remind myself it was my bright idea to take things slow. But she took my hand, and I’m not letting go.
She steers us toward a bench not far from a big white gazebo, where three little kids are chasing each other in circles.
We’re still holding hands as we sit down.
I don’t ever want to let go.
“I don’t want you to apologize for bringing up your past,” she says finally.
When I start to argue with her, she squeezes my hand.
“You do it every time something about your childhood comes up, as if I can’t handle your hard truths.”
“We’re just getting to know each other,” I say with a shrug, feeling beyond self-conscious. “I’m sure you’re not dying to hear about the time I overheard my nanny talking to a friend about how my parents decided I was way more work than they bargained for . . . the reason I have no siblings.”
“Oh, Hayden, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.” She pauses. “But didn’t you say you wanted to know the real me? Beyond my favorite ice cream flavor? I want to do the same.”
“Mint chocolate chip.”
A horn from the approaching ferry cuts off whatever she was going to say. When it stops, I look up, the sky blue but dotted with clouds. A perfect summer day.
Made even more so by the woman beside me.
“I have nothing to complain about,” I say. “I have friends who have been discriminated against or targeted because of who they are or what they believe. Friends who were raped. They have legitimate complaints. A wealthy white guy who grew up bouncing between his houses in Connecticut, New York, and Switzerland? Not so much.”
People start to pile off the ferry.
Ada purses her lips in thought. “You’re much more self-aware than I gave you credit for,” she says at last, “but sharing your past hurts with someone who cares doesn’t mean you’re complaining.”
I don’t deserve to be sitting here with this woman.
“Hayden?” She looks hesitant.
“You told me not to hold back,” I remind her. “I won’t if you won’t.”
She squeezes my hand again. “Your parents might not love you the way you want to be loved, but they do love you.”
Her words don’t penetrate at first. When they do, I sit there for a moment, thinking about it . . . I’m not sure what to say. She couldn’t have said anything that would surprise me more.
“Your father believed in you enough to put more money on the line than most people see in ten lifetimes. And your mother . . . you told me she bought the house in Lugano to be closer to you.”
“After I tricked her into it.”
When Ada looks at me, I decide she’d have made a fine schoolteacher. I have the instant urge to squirm in my seat.
“Do you honestly believe your mother doesn’t know the difference between a life-threatening ailment and her eleven-year-old son crying out for help?”
I’ve got her on this one. “That’s exactly what I believe, because I fessed up to her a few years ago.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said, ‘Well, it’s a nice place to have a house anyway.’”
Ada rolls her eyes. “Like I said, she already knew. And maybe it’s not the way you wanted her to show you love, but it was her way. I’m not trying to tell you it doesn’t suck. It must have been awful to go through life thinking your parents didn’t care about you. But the fact that they didn’t want kids after you doesn’t mean they didn’t want you. I’m just saying, as an outsider, that I think your perception might be skewed.”
I’m about to shut down this conversation, but it occurs to me that Nanny Mary has tried to tell me the same thing—and so has Enzo, who has met my parents on numerous occasions. But I have so many other memories that indicate I’m right. If my parents love me, it’s because they think they have no choice.
“I know one thing, when I have kids they’re not going to question for even a second how I feel about them.”
We exchange a look, one much more meaningful than should be shared on a second date, or whatever date this is.
“So you want children?”
“Yes and no,” I answer. “I’ve always gravitated to kids for some reason. But I never really saw myself in a committed relationship long enough to seriously consider it.”
This is a much deeper conversation than I was prepared for.
“Do you?”
Ada nods. “I do.”
Everyone has disembarked from the ferry now, and it begins to glide away. Beyond it, the lake glistens as the sun peeks out again through a break in the clouds.
I take a deep breath. “I can honestly say I’ve never had a discussion like this with another human being in my life.”
And as we sit there
together, side by side, I know this is it. That I’ll never meet another woman like her. That she’s the only woman who will ever make me feel like this.
How I can be so sure, so quickly, I have no clue. It was like some unknown force prompted me to ask her that outrageous question in the bar the other night—and her to take a leap after we’d just decided to close the door. But I did, and she did, and here we are.
A fluffy puppy escapes from its owner and runs up to my feet.
Apologizing, the owner leads the puppy away. Ada grins at me and feigns swooning.
“Kids and a dog. Got it,” she jokes. “Don’t forget about the white picket fence.”
“For which house? Number one, two, or three?”
She hits me on the arm. “You are incorrigible. Just when I was beginning to think you were actually a human being.”
“Boy, do I have you fooled.”
“No, actually”—she stands, pulling me up with her—“I don’t think that you do. Just the opposite.”
25
Ada
Ada: SOS
Kristina: Sounds serious.
Ada: You have no idea. Have a sec?
Kristina: Sure!
My sister picks up the phone on the first ring. “What’s up?”
After a day of strolling through town and a series of probing questions, both from me to Hayden and vice versa, it’s been the most perfect day of my life. Far from the cocky businessman I met in the office that first day, Hayden is proving to be thoughtful, his insight into relationships, and the world, more nuanced than I’d ever have given him credit for before that day. But also, the sexual tension between us is off the charts.
“Not working tonight?”
As a pharmacist, my sister works split shifts, so it’s hard to remember when she’ll be at work. Weekends don’t guarantee it.
“Nope, getting ready to go out with some friends. So what’s the SOS?”
“First of all, I need your solemn, lockbox promise this is between us.”
“It’s in the box.”
Sometimes, Don’t tell Mom or Dad really means don’t tell them unless you think it’s absolutely necessary or you’re tricked into it or you’ll come to some kind of harm if you don’t tell. But when something is in the lockbox, that’s a different story. We’ve both always honored the lockbox.
“OK, I’ll try to make this quick.”
I start from the beginning. The very beginning, when Hayden slipped my bracelet back on my wrist and my body tingled all over. I tell her about our business dinner, our not-so-business lunch, and the site visit. And everything that’s led me to today.
“So let me get this straight. You are on an impromptu vacation with a guy you met a few weeks ago, who also happens to be one of the sponsors of the NDA you’re processing. Is that pretty much it?”
I look out the window of my cottage room but don’t see anything yet. He said he’d come over in fifteen minutes, but it feels like we’ve been apart for an hour.
It’s more like five minutes, but who’s counting?
“Pretty much.”
“And you called me to ask if you should sleep with him?”
Not exactly.
“No. I’m calling you because I one hundred percent know we’re going to have sex tonight. I’m calling to ask if you think it’s the worst idea in the world.”
She doesn’t say anything.
I sigh heavily. “OK. I already know it’s the worst idea in the world. But Kris, something about this just feels right. Like it’s meant to be. There’s more to him than people think.”
“The fact that you’re holed up with a mega-hot rich boy who’s on the precipice of—let me see if I can get your words right—a ‘life-changing product that will change the way we consume alcohol.’ You mean that kind of fate?”
If I’m honest, I called her to talk me out of it, because Kristina is the most logical of any of us, including my dad. Sometimes, she’s like a robot. It can be a bit scary.
“Don’t be a smart-ass.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
I can hear her getting ready in the background. “What are you doing?”
“Straightening my hair.”
“I like it curly so much better.”
“Thanks, Mom. So do you have all night to chat or . . .”
“No, he’ll be here soon.”
“OK, then tell me what you’re worried about?”
I laugh bitterly. “Oh, I don’t know. Getting caught. Losing the promotion. Maybe even losing my job. Making the same mistake as last time. Letting Dad down, again. Just a few minor things like that.”
Kristina is silent. I look outside again. Nothing but the pretty twinkle lights hidden in the greenery and the string of white lights strung across the bridge leading toward the main building.
“Getting caught. In Skaneateles? Unlikely.”
“No, dipshit. When we’re back in New York.”
“I love how sweet you are to me. Back in New York? I’d say it’s still unlikely. It’s a big city.”
“We ran into each other, twice.”
“Only once counts. The second time you increased the likelihood when you ran down his street like a stalker.”
True.
“You’ll only lose the promotion if you get caught. Which is possible. So you really should prepare for that to happen, for argument’s sake. Losing your job? Less likely. You’d be censured and reassigned.”
I agree with that.
“Making the same mistake? No, I don’t accept that. It’s an entirely different kind of mistake.”
Ouch.
“The last two are tougher. You’re worried you’ll let down Dad by choosing love over work? Also doubtful. He passed up a position in Geneva that would have put him on the world stage so he could be home with Mom and us, so I think his priorities are pretty aligned with yours.”
“I’m not in love, first of all. And passing on a job for your family and screwing around with a sponsor are a bit different.”
“Maybe. But I don’t agree about the love thing. This is an unusual SOS, even for you.”
I’m not in love with Hayden Tanner—it’s much too soon, and he’s much too dangerous—but I let that one go for now.
“And your conscience.” She sighs and puts something down, presumably the flat iron. Suddenly, her voice is right in my ear. I’m no longer on speakerphone.
“‘There is no right or wrong, only our thoughts and perceptions make it so.’”
Debasish Mridha. A physician friend of my father whose platitudes he’s touted many times.
“That’s a nonanswer, Kris.”
“But the best one I have. I love you, and I’m proud of you. Go get ready for your guy.”
I laugh. “In other words, you have to finish getting ready?”
“Yes.”
Still smiling after we hang up the phone, I sit on the bed and contemplate everything my sister said. In just about any other situation, I’d be asking my dad for career advice, about anything remotely related to my work. Which this undoubtedly is.
But not this time.
Spending a weekend with Hayden upstate is one thing. Taking this next step means tonight won’t be the end of it. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. I would effectively be dating my sponsor, in secret.
But Kris knows me well—I made the choice before I called.
26
Hayden
My hand rises to knock but stops midair.
I need to calm down first. Taking a few deep breaths, I tell myself that I’m ready for whatever happens tonight. Even if it’s nothing. We had an amazing day. I didn’t even mind rummaging through the little souvenir shops because Ada was by my side. It was hard as hell to sit there and watch her lick an entire ice cream, a simple act that should definitely not have made me need a minute to compose myself.
But it did.
We ate dinner downtown. Hung out in a nautical-themed corner bar on the lake as if we were a couple
.
She asked about Angel, Inc.
I was hesitant at first, knowing she didn’t want to mix business and pleasure, but Ada said she was only interested in the basics. How did Enzo make his discovery? How did I become involved? What were our plans after approval?
When she said “after approval” like it was a foregone conclusion, I almost asked her if it was. But I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position, so instead I told her about meeting Enzo, about how he changed my life. What I don’t say is that Enzo was just the catalyst—he made me want to be a better person—and Ada is like the actual chemical reaction. When I’m with her, I want to be . . . well . . . I want to be someone she admires and respects, like her father.
I want her to talk about me that way too. The only problem? I’m still not one hundred percent sure that she’ll agree to let us—that nebulous concept we’ve been dancing around—extend beyond this weekend.
What happens tomorrow when we get back to real life?
Ada’s door swings open, alerting me to the fact that I’ve been standing out here for much longer than is socially acceptable. “What the heck are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
She moves to the side to let me in. “Out there?”
When I come in, I can’t help but smile. Like the night before, Ada has the fireplace on along with the air conditioning.
“You know how ridiculous that is in the middle of summer.” I wave toward the fire. “Right?”
Her chin goes up.
“I like it.”
“I like you.” It’s out of my mouth before I even think about it.
“I like you too.”
When I told Ada the ball was in her court back at that lunch, I meant it. She decides what comes next. Problem is, I have no idea what she’s thinking.
And the suspense is positively killing me.
“Yes,” she says.
Neither of us moves.
“Yes?”
“To the question you’re asking. With your eyes. The answer is yes.”
Does she mean . . . ?
Her eyes answer the question that mine asked.
I close the distance between us.
Last Call Page 13
