"Sleep well?" I asked.
"I did. Thanks. The mattress in the guest room is better than I remembered. But I might just be tired."
"Have you decided what you want to do with London today? After art class, I mean?"
"I don't want to do anything too demanding. She should still take it easy. We could go to Discovery Place, but I want to see what London wants to do."
"I'm going to the office," I informed her. "I want to get as much done for the plastic surgeon as I can, especially since he dropped everything to help London."
"Tell him thank you from me. He did a very good job. I peeked at it last night."
The teakettle whistled and she added hot water to her cup. She seemed to debate whether or not to join me at the table before finally taking a seat.
"There's something I need to tell you," I said. "About dance."
"What about dance?" Vivian took a tentative sip from her steaming cup.
I recapped everything for her, trying to keep it as succinct as possible, including the fact that London wasn't going to be allowed to dance at the recital.
"Huh," Vivian said. "And you told her that London was in the hospital?"
"I told her. It didn't matter. And then London told me straight up that she doesn't want to go anymore. She doesn't think Ms. Hamshaw likes her."
"If she doesn't want to go, then don't make her go. It's just dance."
Vivian gave an elaborate shrug. She spoke without the slightest acknowledgment of her previous insistence that London attend in the first place. There was no reason to bring it up, but it made me wonder whether I'd ever be able to understand what made Vivian tick. And whether I'd ever really understood her at all.
London came downstairs while we were still in the kitchen. She wandered over to the table, still dopey with sleep.
"Hi Mommy and Daddy," she said, giving both of us hugs.
"What can I get you for breakfast?" Vivian asked.
"Lucky Charms."
"Okay, sweetie," Vivian said. "I'll get it for you."
I folded my newspaper and stood, trying to mask my amazement at how easily Vivian had acquiesced to London's request for a sugary cereal.
"Have fun today, ladies," I said.
I spent nearly the entire day on the computer, finalizing everything I could do for the tech aspect of the plastic surgeon's ad campaign, aside from the posting of the patient videos to the website. I forwarded the information to my tech guy and also emailed reminders to the patients about filming on Tuesday.
It was nearly six when I finally looked up. I texted Vivian asking what time London would be going to bed because I wanted to read to her. Vivian answered immediately with the time. Because I'd worked through lunch, I grabbed a sandwich at the deli across street and decided to give Emily a call.
"Am I catching you at a bad time?" I asked, idly cleaning up my desk.
"Not at all," she said. "Bodhi's playing in his room and I was just cleaning the kitchen. How's the weekend going?"
"So far, so good. I was at the office all day. Got a ton of work done. I'm going to head home in a bit to read to London."
"I saw her today when I dropped Bodhi off at art. Vivian, too."
"How'd that go?"
"I didn't stick around to chat," she said.
"Good plan. I'll probably find a way to hide from Vivian after I read to London, too. No reason to press my luck. What are your plans for tonight?"
"Nothing. Finish cleaning the kitchen, watch TV. Maybe have a glass of wine after Bodhi goes to bed."
Unbidden, thoughts of making love to Emily resurfaced, as they had the night before. I pushed them firmly away.
"Do you want some company?" I asked. "After I finish with London? I could swing by for an hour or so. Maybe you can show me that painting you've been working on."
She hesitated and I was certain she was going to say no.
"I'd like that," she said instead.
I made it home just as London was getting ready for bed, and as usual Vivian and I slipped into our familiar roles. She read first, and then I went up to read to London. London chattered on about her day--in addition to art class and Discovery Place, they'd gone to the mall--and by the time I turned out the light, Vivian was already in the guest room with the door closed.
I knocked on the door and heard her voice from the other side.
"Yes?"
"I'm going out for a little bit. I just wanted to let you know, in case London wakes up. I should be back before eleven."
I could almost hear her asking Where are you going? in the silence that followed.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "Thanks for letting me know."
Emily had left a note tacked to the door, inviting me in and directing me to the back porch.
I moved quietly through the house, trying not to wake Bodhi. I felt a little like a teenager trying to sneak past my parents, and wondered if the child inside us ever truly left any of us.
Emily was barefoot tonight, in jeans and a red blouse, with her long legs propped against a low bench that lined the porch; a chair had been placed next to her. On the porch table stood an open bottle of wine and an empty glass; she held a half-full glass in her own hand.
"Perfect timing," she said. "I just checked on Bodhi and he's sound asleep."
"London, too."
"I got started without you," she said, raising her own glass. "Help yourself."
I poured and sat next to her. "Thanks for having me over."
"When a friend says he has to hide, my door is open. How is it really, though?"
I considered the question before answering. "We haven't fought, but we haven't seen much of each other, either. It's strange, though. It feels like there's this awkward heaviness in the house."
"Emotions are heavy things," she said. "And it's still early for both of you. How was London when you read to her?"
"She was fine. They had a good day."
"Do you think she knows what's going on yet?"
"I think she knows there's something different, but that's it."
"That's probably a good thing for now. It's hard enough to get through this stage without worrying about your child as well."
I nodded, knowing she was right.
"Do you sit out here a lot?"
"Less than I should--sometimes I forget how pretty it is. I love seeing the stars between all the trees, and the sound of crickets." She shook her head. "I don't know... I guess I just get stuck in my routines. Which is why I still haven't gotten around to listing the house yet. I get lazy."
"I don't think you're lazy. We're just creatures of habit." I took a sip of wine, letting a comfortable silence settle between us. Finally, I said, "I feel like I should thank you."
"Why?" I felt her turn toward me, her eyes seeking me out in the darkness.
"For letting me come over. For talking to me on the phone. For the advice you give. For putting up with my confusion and whining. Everything."
"That's what friends are for."
"Emily, we're old friends," I said. "But it's been a long time and it's not like we've been close these past fifteen years. Somehow, though, in just a short time, you've become one of my best friends--again."
I could see the starlight flickering in her eyes. "I read something about friendship once and it stuck with me. It goes like this: Friendship isn't about how long you know someone. It's about who walks into your life, says 'I'm here for you,' and then proves it."
I smiled. "I like that."
"Russ, you sound like you think you're a burden to me. But you're not. Believe it or not, I like talking to you. And I like that we've rekindled our friendship. Aside from Grace and Marguerite, it's just Bodhi and me. And, I don't know... there's something so comforting about our shorthand. Not having to explain everything about who we are and where we come from. We know all that stuff already."
"Guess I'm like an old shoe, huh?"
She laughed. "A favorite shoe... maybe. One that always fit ju
st right and you were never able to replace."
I felt a genuine warmth flowing from her then, and it was such a reassuring sensation--one that I had missed, I realized, in all these uncertain years with Vivian.
"I feel the same, way, Em." I stared at her. "I really do."
She was quiet for a moment, rotating the glass of wine in her hands. "Do you remember than night when we got stuck on the Ferris wheel? The night of the fireworks?"
"I remember," I said.
"I thought you were going to propose to me that night," she said softly. "And when you didn't, I was so... disappointed."
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it.
"Don't be--it's silly." She waved my apology away. "The point I'm trying to make is that I would have said yes and maybe we would have gotten married. But that also means I wouldn't have Bodhi and you wouldn't have London, and then who would we be? Maybe we would have ended up getting divorced. Or hate each other now."
"I think we could have made it."
Her smile seemed to hold a trace of melancholy. "Maybe. There's no way of knowing. We've both been knocked around enough by life to understand how unpredictable life can be."
I stared at her. "You do know that you continually say things that surprise me and make me think."
"That's because I majored in the humanities, not business."
I laughed, suddenly flooded with gratitude that she'd come back into my life, just when I needed her most.
It wasn't until well past midnight that I finally made it home.
"You were out late last night," Vivian remarked as we crossed paths in the kitchen the next morning. "I thought you said you'd be home by eleven."
Despite the late night, I'd risen early and was ready to start my day by the time Vivian made it downstairs.
"Time got away from me," I offered. I could tell she was curious about where I'd been and what I'd been doing, but it wasn't her business. Not anymore. Changing the subject, I asked, "What time do you think you'll be leaving? Since you have to drive?"
"Six, six thirty? I don't know for sure yet."
"Do you want to have a family dinner before you go?"
"I was going to take London out for an early dinner."
"All right," I said. "I'll be here at six, then."
She seemed to be waiting for me to announce something about my plans for the day. Instead, I went back to sipping my coffee and perusing the paper. When she realized I wasn't going to speak, she finally went back upstairs, no doubt so she could shower and get ready for her day with London.
CHAPTER 21
Clicking on All Cylinders
Emily and I saw each other six times before we ever slept together. Our first date after the wedding was the hike she'd suggested; we also went to a concert. We'd had lunch and dinner a few times. By then, I was already falling hard for her, but I wasn't quite sure how she felt about me.
That morning I picked her up early and we drove to Wrightsville Beach. We lunched at a small ocean-side restaurant before strolling to the water's edge. We collected seashells in my baseball cap as we rambled down the beach in the direction of the pier, and I can still picture the way the breeze lifted glinting strands of her hair as she bent down to retrieve a particularly beautiful shell.
We both knew what was coming. I'd arranged for a hotel room for the night, but instead of growing more nervous as the day wore on, she seemed to settle into a state of languid ease. Late in the afternoon, after we checked in, she took a long shower while I lay on the bed, flipping through channels on the television. Afterward, she wandered out wrapped only in a towel to retrieve a change of clothes.
"What are you watching?"
You, I could have said. But instead I answered, "Nothing, really. Just waiting for you to finish in the bathroom so I can shower, too."
"It won't be long," she promised.
It occurred to me that Emily, more than any woman to that point in my life, made me feel comfortable because she always seemed so comfortable with me. I gave her a few minutes before getting up from the bed. By then, she was dressed and applying a little makeup.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just watching you." I met her gaze in the mirror.
"Why?"
"I think watching you put on makeup is sexy."
She turned around and puckered her lips. We kissed and she turned back around.
"What was that for?"
"Once I get my lipstick on, you won't be able to kiss me for a while. Unless you want to wear lipstick, too."
I continued to watch for another minute before heading back to the bed. I plopped down, pleasantly buzzed by her kiss and the promise of the evening to come.
We ate at a bistro overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway, lingering over dinner long after the sun went down. On our way out, we heard music and followed the sound to a bar down the street, where we found a live band playing. We danced until the bar closed, pleasantly weary as we strolled back to the hotel after midnight.
Electricity crackled between us as I unlocked the door and we stepped into our room. The maids had turned down the bed and the lights had been dimmed. I slipped my arms around Emily and pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body against my own.
I kissed her then, our tongues coming together while my hands slowly began to explore the contours of her body. She gave a shallow gasp and our passion became more intense as I felt her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. Her fingers reached for the buttons of my shirt.
We continued to kiss as she undid them one by one. I lifted her dress and she raised her arms to assist me. I slipped it over her head while my shirt fell to the ground, her skin fiery against my own. Her bra came next, and soon we were naked on the bed and moving together, lost in our own feelings and the mysteries of each other.
It finally happened on Wednesday, and I'll admit that I was as surprised as the receptionist, but I'll get to that. First things first.
On Sunday, Marge and Liz weren't at my parents' when I arrived, and when I called her house, Marge sounded utterly miserable. Coughing, achy, feverish, the whole nine yards. When my mom found out, she decided then and there to make chicken soup, which I was then tasked with delivering to Marge. If possible, she looked worse than she sounded, and joked that even Liz was keeping her distance, since she had clearly been infected with the plague.
Deciding to take my chances, I hugged her anyway, before heading home.
Vivian left around six thirty, after bringing London back from dinner. Her departure was as cordial as the rest of the weekend had been. She asked no questions about my day and I asked no questions about hers; instead we simply wished each other well as she headed out the door. After I put London to bed, I called Emily to ask if she would mind picking up London from school on Tuesday, since I'd be filming all day. Emily assured me that it wouldn't be a problem.
On Monday, Taglieri's new website went live, and the first two commercials began to air. I posted the commercials on his website as well as on YouTube. I worked from home so I could watch the spots as they aired, feeling an almost physical thrill as I watched them. Meanwhile, I worked on templates for direct mail and billboards for the plastic surgeon, getting the messaging right. On Tuesday, I filmed his patients--a very long day, as I'd predicted--and then went to pick up London at Emily's, where we ended up staying for dinner, much to London's delight.
On Wednesday, as I was driving to the office, I received a text from Taglieri asking me to call him and I felt my heart sink. Maybe because the previous weekend had been devoid of drama with Vivian, I felt certain that he was calling with what could only be bad news on the divorce front.
I returned the call right after I parked, standing outside my office. I felt like I needed to be standing when I spoke to him.
"Hi, Joey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I got your text. What's up?"
"My business," he said. "My future bank account."
"Excuse me?"
"Yo
u know that new toll-free number? The one you splattered all over those two commercials? The phone's been ringing off the hook. It's crazy. People love that commercial with the kid. They think it's hilarious. And now, we can direct them to the website for basic information. It's incredible. I never would have believed it. My staff is going crazy just trying to keep up."
"You're happy," I said, stunned.
"Damn right, I'm happy. When's that dog commercial going to run? And you need to come up with some more ideas. So put your thinking cap on."
"I can do that," I said.
"And Russ?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
I hung up the phone and strode into the office, feeling like I was six inches taller. When I waved to the receptionist, I watched as she raised her hand.
"Mr. Green? Don't you want your messages?"
"I have messages?"
"Two, actually. They're both from law firms."
Again, I thought of Vivian and wondered if she'd told her attorney to reach out to me directly. If so, I wasn't sure why Vivian hadn't given the lady my cell phone number; as far as I knew, Vivian didn't even know my work number.
But it wasn't Vivian's attorney who'd called. One call was from a firm in Greenville, South Carolina, that specialized in class actions, the other from a personal injury firm in Hickory. In both cases, I was connected immediately to senior partners, each of whom seemed eager to speak with me.
"I like those commercials you're doing for Joey Taglieri, and we were wondering if you would consider coming in to make a presentation about your services."
After hanging up, I let out a whoop of excitement. I just had to tell someone.
I reached for my phone, about to call Marge, but then decided at the last second to call Emily instead.
Floating.
That's how I felt the rest of the week. Like I was floating free of the worries that had been weighing me down for months.
Though it might be only be temporary--what goes up always comes down and all that--I decided I was going to enjoy every single minute, even if I didn't land the two new firms as clients. While it would be great to sign those firms, I received three more calls from lawyers by Friday, making five new potential clients, all of whom had reached out to me. I'd set up presentations with all of them and depending on how many I signed, I thought I might be looking at potentially needing to hire another person, just to keep up.