Three Months Later
“. . . and then there we were, all of us, falling into the water, all of our clothes on, of course—in the river, fully dressed!” Jared Van Heeth lurched into peals of laughter. “It was a hoot, I tell you.”
“Oh . . . I bet it was.” I forced myself to drudge up a weak chuckle, trying to remember what the hell he’d been talking about. Something about crew and his college buddies and . . . God only knew what else.
I met my mom’s eyes across the table. She quirked one eyebrow at me in silent solidarity, and then she blinked once, slowly, like a cat. That was our long-time signal for get-me-the-hell-out-of-here. It was nice to know that old Jared was capable of boring not just one but two generations of Simmons women.
Taking a deep breath, I was about to ask him to drive me back to the city, thus sacrificing my own needs while sparing my mother another minute of his company, when she beat me to the punch.
“Jared, dear, it’s been so lovely to see you. What a good idea it was for us to enjoy this brunch together. I’ll have to call your mother later and tell her what a treat it was and thank her for making the suggestion.” She beamed, ever the consummate political animal. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to be terribly rude and ask if I can steal Amanda away for the rest of the day.” She reached over to squeeze my hand. “We don’t get to see nearly enough of each other, you know, and since my husband is out of the country on a dig, it’s such a great opportunity for us to visit and maybe do some Christmas shopping.”
Jared frowned a little. “Oh, well, I . . . uh, sure. Of course.” He turned to me. “I was thinking that maybe we could get together for dinner one night, Mandy. Now that I’m working in Philadelphia, it would be a real shame for us not to spend more time together.”
I steeled myself not to cringe at his use of a nickname I’d never had . . . or the thought of voluntarily spending any more time with him. “I’m sure we can work out something.” I wasn’t my mother’s daughter for nothing. Diplomacy was everything. “I’m pretty busy, heading into my last semester of law school. And when I’m not studying, I’m working.”
He laughed. “Aw, c’mon. You know what they say about all work and no play. You don’t want to turn into one of those boring women who only cares about her career.”
Now my mother’s eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline, and I knew that if I didn’t move fast, one or both of us was going to blow. “Ah, ha, ha, you’re so adorable, Jared. Let me walk you to the door while my mother finishes up here.” I stood up, pushing back my chair, and Jared at last seemed to get the message that brunch was over and it was time for him to leave.
He rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss my mother’s cheeks, thanking her for the meal, before he joined me, pressing a hand to my lower back as we walked. I stepped away, moving faster, unable to bear any touch from him.
He held the door of the restaurant for me and handed his ticket to the valet as I wrapped my arms around my middle, warding off the chilly breeze.
“Should we exchange numbers?” He leaned against the column, the collar of his jacket turned up, the image of a privileged young man who’d never been compelled to do a day of work in his life.
“Oh, shoot.” I wrinkled my nose. “I left my phone at my table with my mother. I’ll tell you what, though—Mom has your number, so I’ll get it from her, and we’ll be in touch. Yes?” I flashed him a bright smile. “Oh, look, here’s your car! Brrr, it’s cold, isn’t it? I’m going to run back inside now, take care, talk soon!”
Without giving him a moment to protest or to try to do anything else—the idea of even a kiss on the cheek from him made me queasy—I skittered back inside and made a beeline for the table where I’d left my mom.
“Well, that was ninety minutes of my life I’ll never get back.” She rolled her eyes at me as she signed the check and closed the small black folder. “Good luck avoiding him, now that he’s living in your city.”
I shrugged. “It’s easier than you might think. I see a very small group of people, you know? It’s not like I’m out on the social circuit.”
“I do know.” Mom pointed to the chair I was standing behind. “Sit down. I ordered a fresh pot of coffee when I asked for the check, so we can have a little time together without your new friend around.”
“He’s not my friend,” I protested, sinking into my seat again. “It was your idea to invite him to brunch.”
“Yes, because his mother, whom I’ve known since we were at St. Ursula’s together, called and told me he needed a friend now that he was back in the area . . . and you told me that you were looking for a date for Liam’s wedding. It seemed serendipitous.”
“I guess.” I poured coffee for my mother and myself. “And I know I should probably just invite him to be my plus one, because the wedding’s in two weeks, and I told Ava and Liam I was bringing a date . . . and I don’t have one.” Unbidden, an image of Vincent DiMartino flashed into my mind, naked and sprawled over my bed, his eyes hooded as he’d watched me ride him until both of us were hoarse from moaning . . .
“Who were you thinking about just now?” Amusement and curiosity tinged my mother’s voice. “What memory gave you that soft look in your eyes?”
“No one.” My answer was a knee-jerk response. I hadn’t told a single person about my night with Vincent: not my mother, whom I told almost everything, not any of my girlfriends, and certainly not Ava or Liam or Giff. It was a memory I’d kept to myself, reliving moments of that time over and over, especially during the few dates I’d had in the three months since. I wasn’t proud that I’d had to fantasize about Vincent in order to orgasm with guys I’d slept with since that one-night stand. But it was safer than doing something crazy, like calling him up and asking him if we could revisit the idea of another night together.
“Uh huh.” Mom was skeptical. “I’m assuming whoever it was, you believe that I wouldn’t approve.”
“I never worry about your approval,” I retorted. “You’ve never made me think I had to work for that. I just . . . this was a one-shot deal. It’s not going to happen again. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself.” She tapped her fingers on the fine white linen tablecloth. “Was it someone you met at Liam and Ava’s engagement party?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Why on earth would you ask that?”
She shrugged. “I was just remembering that weekend. We had brunch on Sunday, remember, as usual, and afterward, your father asked me if you were dating someone new. He said you had a look that he hadn’t seen before—not on you.”
Oh, awesome. My father had picked up on my post-sex bliss face. “Daddy said that? Since when does he notice anything about me?” That came out wrong. “I mean, when it comes to my love life. I don’t feel neglected by him or anything—I’m just kind of surprised.”
“Your father notices more than you think. But like me, he respects your privacy and feels that if you want us to know something, you’ll tell us. That day, he asked me if you’d said anything to me. I told him that as far as I knew, you were still single and focused on school and work.”
“I am.” I played with the edge of the tablecloth. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be looking for anyone now except for this stupid wedding.”
“Why is it so important for you to have a date for the wedding, Amanda? You’ve gone solo to weddings before. Don’t you always tell me it’s more fun that way, so if you meet someone, you don’t have to worry about hurting the feelings of your date?” Mom tilted her head.
“Yes. Usually, that’s how I feel. I just don’t want—” I paused, trying to figure out what I was trying to say. “I’d rather have the safety net of a date this time. So I don’t do anything idiotic.” Like tackle the bride’s brother to the ground and ride him like a show pony.
“By something idiotic, I’m going to assume you mean someone. You’re concerned that whoever you hooked up with at the engagement party might think you’re looking for round two if you show up on your own. And maybe there’s part of you that wants to prove to this person that you’ve moved on. That someone else wants you, too.”
I sighed. “You know, I signed up for a political mother, not a psychologist mom. I don’t know why I want a date, okay? It just feels like a good idea to have one. But apparently, that’s not going to happen, because everyone I would consider bringing with me is a dud, and Vincent—” I stopped, appalled that I’d spoken his name out loud. “That’s all. I’m done. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I pushed back my coffee cup untouched. “Did you say something about Christmas shopping? Where did you want to go?”
My mother made a face. “Shopping, on a Sunday two weeks before Christmas? I’d never do that. All of my shopping was done weeks ago, online. I only said that to Jared so that he’d leave us alone.”
“Okay, then I think I’ll head back home. I have one more final paper to write before the end of the semester, and I also need to handle some interrogatories I got behind on last week at work.”
“Amanda.” Mom’s voice softened. “Have you thought that your one-night stand could be more than that? If you’re this obsessed with convincing him that you don’t care three months after the fact, then you should at least consider exploring other possibilities. Like a second night. Or a date.”
“Absolutely not. And I know you didn’t miss that I slipped and said his name, but Mom, I’m begging you in the name of everything you hold holy not to bring it up to me or to anyone else. Don’t go poking. If you figure out who it was, don’t mention it to me or to Daddy or, God forbid, to Mrs. Bailey. I want to forget about it.”
My mother spread her hands in front of her. “Consider it forgotten. I trust you, Amanda. If you say this isn’t going to work, that it’s a dead-end, I believe you know best. And if you really feel as though you need a date for the wedding, I’ll ask Ollie to take you. He’s the perfect candidate for this situation: you know he won’t hit on you, but he’ll be so attentive that anyone who saw you together would swear he’s head over heels.”
“I love Ollie, Mom, but I don’t think it will come to that. I don’t like using people, and that’s what I’d be doing.” My mother’s assistant was a wonderful man, a few years older than me. He was crazy good-looking and sweet enough to make any girl swoon, and sadly for all those girls, he was also gay. He’d been engaged to Victor, his high school boyfriend, until two years ago, when Victor had died in a freak skiing accident. Since then, Ollie had been single, grieving, and buried in his work.
“He adores you, and he’d be happy to help. Just keep it in mind as an option.” We both stood up and shrugged into our coats. Mom pulled fitted black leather gloves over her hands and frowned at me. “Amanda, where are your gloves?”
I made a face. “I lost them a couple of weeks back. I think they fell out of my pocket on the bus.”
“Good lord.” She shook her head. “I’ll send you a new pair. Call it an early Christmas gift. You can’t be walking around the city in the winter without something on your hands.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” I kissed her cheek. “You’re the best. And thanks for brunch, too.”
“You’re welcome. Come on. Let’s get my car, and I’ll drop you at the station. I need to get home to Facetime with your dad.”
“Awww.” I smiled as we walked outside to wait for the car to be brought around. “How romantic.”
Mom winked at me. “Actually, the Facetime talks are more about catching up. The real romance is on Tuesday nights, when he calls me for phone sex.”
“Moooooom.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Do I subject you to talk about my sex life? No, I do not. I’d appreciate the same courtesy extended to me.”
“Sorry.” She spoke so cheerfully that I knew she was lying through her teeth.
The train rumbled over the tracks on its way from Princeton to Philadelphia. The car was full today, with people making the trip into the city for shopping or holiday entertainment. I was lucky that I’d snagged a seat. I lay back against the head rest, feeling unreasonably mopey and blue.
My mother hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that I was probably trying to prove something to Vincent by bringing a date to Ava and Liam’s wedding. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I hadn’t been afraid that Vincent would show up with some gorgeous, sexy woman on his arm, and I’d be the sad single friend, sitting alone at the table for those who didn’t fit anywhere else.
I wished I could figure out a subtle way to ask Liam or Giff if Vincent planned to bring a date. But they’d both been too suspicious after the engagement party, even after I told them point-blank that I wasn’t sharing anything with them. If I so much as mentioned Vincent’s name now, they’d be on me like bees on honey.
It would be helpful, too, if I’d managed to forget that night. I wished I could. I wished that it had been like any of my other hook-ups, a dim and pleasant memory, rather than something running on constant repeat in my head, flaring into Technicolor perfection when I least wanted it to be there.
I told myself that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t mean anything. Hell, I’d been telling myself that since Vincent had left that Saturday morning . . .
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift, remembering.
We hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. It seemed that any time I fell asleep, a few minutes later, Vincent was sucking on my nipple or between my legs, tonguing me to mind-numbing pleasure and then groaning as he slid back inside me. Or I’d wake up with his arms around me, his cock nudging me in the back, and I’d reach backwards and stroke him until he pushed me onto my stomach and took me from behind.
I’d ridden that long, hard dick, making myself come before I took him into oblivion with me. After that, I’d simply laid myself over his body and fallen into a deep, almost drugged sleep.
When the sun came up, waking us both, Vincent coaxed me into the shower with him, where I’d gotten on my knees and sucked him off while he braced against the tiles. After I stood up, smiling like a cat who’d gotten the cream, he’d gotten down and returned the favor.
Twice.
I’d learned that night that for Vincent, sex wasn’t quite a competition, but it was almost a sport. He never liked to leave me with the upper hand. I didn’t give him an orgasm that he didn’t reciprocate, often a few times over. Not that I was complaining; I’d never come so often and so hard in one night. Maybe not even in one lifetime.
After our shower, he’d put his dress clothes on again, grinning a little ruefully at me as he buttoned the wrinkled shirt and tucked it back into his pants.
“Are you going to catch hell from your mom?” I’d asked from where I lay on the bed, still wrapped in my bath towel, my hair damp and curling around my face.
“Nah. If I play my cards right, she won’t even think about it. She’ll assume I either got my own room last night or that I just drove back home after the party. By the time I see her tomorrow night, she’ll be onto something else.”
“Tomorrow night?” I cocked my head. “You have plans with her?”
“It’s Sunday. The restaurant’s closed, so the whole family eats together at Ma’s. Carl and Ange will be there with the baby. Ava and Liam won’t be down this week, I guess, since we saw them at the party, but they come down about twice a month. Other than that, there’ll probably be a few cousins there, and maybe some of my aunts and uncles.”
I smiled. “It sounds lovely. Having a big family has always been one of those mysterious experiences to me—something that sounds amazing but something I can’t quite imagine.”
“It’s got its high points and its low points.” He turned his wrist to fasten his watch, and I felt a renewed surge of desire for him. There was something so uniquely male about that move, the way he held his arm and the alluring expanse of skin between his cuff and wrist. It made me want to tempt him back into bed with me . . .
He was speaking again, and I pulled my attention back to what he was saying. “How about you? Do you have brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s just me. I’m close to my parents, but they were only children, too, so I don’t have cousins or aunts and uncles. My grandparents on my dad’s side are alive, but they live in the UK, and my mom’s parents passed away when I was little.”
“So no big family dinners for you? No holiday gatherings?” He looked faintly appalled at the idea.
“No, but we had fun, anyway. We’d either spend holidays with friends, or we’d travel. My dad’s an archeologist, so if there was a short-term dig that fell between Thanksgiving and Christmas, sometimes we’d go there. It wasn’t necessarily typical, but it was never boring.”
“Huh. Your father is like Indiana Jones?” Now Vincent sounded fascinated, and I laughed.
“Not exactly. He’s not the type of archeologist who works in ancient sites, usually—his specialty is more recent history, like within the last thousand years. He works with historical societies on excavating old houses or villages . . . now and then, some native American sites, too, but those aren’t his favorites. Right now, he’s in Israel, working with a group who’s uncovered some kind of site related to the crusades.”
“Still, that’s very cool. He has an amazing job.” Picking up his tie, Vincent stuffed it into his pocket. “Well, I guess that’s it. I should probably get going so that I can make it home before traffic gets too bad.”
“Yeah.” I pushed myself to sit up, securing the top of my towel in place. “Let me call down so that they bring your car around.” I reached for my phone and hit the autodial for the building valet, spoke briefly to the man on duty and hung up.
“That’s wild.” Vincent shook his head. “I can’t imagine having to call someone every time you want to drive your car.”
“I guess you get used to it.” I lifted one shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a car here.”
“What?” Shock flooded his face. “How do you live without a car?”
I counted off on my fingers. “Public transportation. RideIt. Cabs.”
“Do you even know how to drive?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I do. I had a car growing up in Jersey. But it seemed extraneous when I started at Penn, so it’s been tucked in my parents’ garage since I graduated from high school.”
“That’s crazy. I can’t imagine not having my car.” He sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, but the judgement I heard in his voice made me feel defensive, and I shifted a little bit away, out of his reach.
“I guess there are a lot of things you just can’t imagine about my life. That doesn’t make my choices any less valid,” I said tightly. “Different isn’t always wrong.”
“Didn’t say it was.” Vincent leaned over and tucked a curl behind my ear. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was putting you down. It’s just different, like you said. How you live is your business.”
And none of mine. He didn’t say it, but I heard it nonetheless.
“True.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I guess it’s a good thing that we’re just a hook-up, isn’t it? Can you imagine trying to make this any more than it was?”
Vincent was staring at me. “I guess. I mean, we live in totally different worlds. And pretty far apart, geography-wise, too.”
“Yup.” I swung my legs off the side of the mattress. “Well, your car’s probably waiting. If you’re not down there to get it, they’ll put it back in the garage, and you’ll have to call for it again.”
“You’re saying we don’t have time for a quickie?” His voice was teasing, but I was no longer in the mood. I was used to seeing guys off the morning after a rollicking night of sex, but somehow, today was different.
“Afraid not.” I stood up, hugging the towel to me. “You’ll have to make those five orgasms hold you until the next time you find a woman you want to fuck.” I kept my tone light, but I didn’t miss the wince on Vincent’s face.
“I guess I will.”
I pointed to the bedroom door. “I’ll walk you out.”
He frowned at me. “You don’t have to do that. You must be exhausted. Crawl back into bed and get some sleep.”
“I plan to, but I need to lock the door behind you.” The smile I wore was definitely forced.
Vincent nodded. “Ah, of course. Sure. Okay.”
We walked toward my apartment door in silence. I cleared my throat as we reached the living room. “Sorry I didn’t get up and make you breakfast. Or coffee. I don’t have anything in the house, actually. Breakfast isn’t my thing. And I always pick up my coffee on the way to class.”
“Breakfast isn’t your thing? What does that mean? You don’t eat breakfast?” He looked horrified by this revelation. “I would’ve made you something, only I didn’t want to overstep.”
“Like I said, nothing in the house. You’d have had to hit the grocery store first.” I shrugged. “Just another way we’re opposites.”
“Yeah.” He stopped at the door and laid one hand on the knob before turning back to me. “Amanda, thanks for last night. I really had a good time. In case you couldn’t tell.”
Some of my misery and irritation melted away. “I did, too. In case you couldn’t tell.”
He slid his hand alongside my cheek, cupping my face and threading his fingers into my hair. “I guess I’ll see you . . . at the wedding, right?”
“Unless you’re planning to show up at Ava’s bridal shower? Her friend Julia’s planning it, and she already let me know when it’s going to be.” I grinned, trying to picture Vincent among the tea sandwiches and fancy little cakes, watching his sister open gifts of lingerie.
“Uh, no. I think I’ll be skipping that shindig.” He made a face.
“Then yeah, the wedding it is.”
“That’s three months away. Almost four, I guess.” His brow knit together.
“I think that’s right. I’ll be finished with my second-to-last semester of law school. The time can’t go fast enough.”
“I bet.” With a small sigh, Vincent leaned in to kiss me, and this time, I tasted good-bye on his lips. It was bittersweet and a little sad. “See you later, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Vincent.”
He turned the knob and exited, sending me a quick smile and wave over his shoulder. I stood in the open door for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner as he headed for the elevator.
I wanted to run after him and drag him back inside, but I knew that was insane. As we’d both just pointed out, we had almost nothing in common, and neither of us was interested in changing that. We weren’t looking for relationships. We’d wanted a hot and heavy hook-up, and by God, we’d gotten just that.
Which was why I forced myself to close the door, lock it and walk back into my bedroom to get some sleep.
And if I shed a few tears as I drifted off, that meant absolutely nothing, except that I was over-tired.
I didn’t hear anything from or about Vincent for about six weeks, until Ava’s bridal shower. Being a glutton for punishment, I intentionally sat close to Mrs. DiMartino, listening to her chatter to family and friends about everyone in her family, hoping to hear something about Vincent and at the same time, praying I didn’t.
“So Frannie, you got just the one left who isn’t married or taken!” The older woman sitting a little down from Ava’s mother leaned forward, grinning. “Is Vincent ever going to settle down?”
Mrs. DiMartino waved one hand. “Who knows with that one? He’s got a single-minded focus on his job, which is fine with me, because he’s a big part of Cucina Felice. People come to our restaurant from all over to eat my Vincent’s pastries.”
The lady sitting next to me patted my knee. “Have you sampled Vincent’s goodies?” I choked on my punch, coughing and sputtering, as Mrs. DiMartino glanced over at me.
“Oh, no, Amanda’s never been to the restaurant. But you had some of Vincent’s stuff at the engagement party, didn’t you, dear?”
I was certain my face was bright red, but I managed to shake my head. “No, I didn’t have dessert that night.”
“That’s right. You left the party a little early, didn’t you?” Angela DiMartino, Ava’s sister-in-law, shot me a pointed look, with one raised eyebrow, making me wonder what information Vincent’s brother might have shared with his wife.
Before I could formulate an answer, Ava called to her mother, showing off another gift she’d opened, and the conversation went in a whole new direction. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.
After the presents were all opened and everyone was eating, I wandered over to say hello to Ava.
“Is this seat taken? I brought the bride some jungle juice.” I winked at Ava as I sat down.
“Ugh, don’t say that. I still feel a little queasy when I think of that night.” She stuck out her tongue at me. “What a first impression I made, huh?”
“Nah, you were fine.” I scooped up some of the pasta salad on my plate. “So, are you excited? The countdown’s begun, huh?”
“Yeah, time flies. I can’t believe the wedding’s in six weeks.”
We chatted a little bit about the wedding and about Liam’s father, who’d apparently had a slight breakdown and was now living with Ava and Liam as he tried to get back on his feet. Mrs. Bailey came over to say hello, too. I couldn’t help thinking that she looked better now than she ever had, at least as long as I could remember. I wondered if that was because she’d finally dumped the Senator or if it had something to do with the hot young yoga instructor.
After she moved away to speak with someone else, I leaned closer to Ava. “What does Mrs. B think about the Senator taking up residence with you and Liam?”
Ava shrugged. “She didn’t like it at first. But now she just doesn’t say much. They’ve run into each other a few times, but they manage to keep it civil. I hope they can hold out during the wedding.”
“Me, too.” I sipped my punch, thinking that I didn’t envy Ava and Liam having to navigate the delicate balance between his parents.
“So, you and my brother? What happened there?” Ava skewered me with narrowed eyes just as I’d taken a sip of punch, and once again, I began to cough and sputter. I set down my cup as Ava pounded my back until I could speak again.
“What do you mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fumbling with the pretty green shower napkin, I wiped my mouth, dabbing away the dribbles of punch from my chin.
“Cut the crap, Amanda. I know you left our engagement party together. Vince talked to Liam before you both took off, and Liam told me about it . . . after some convincing on my part. I’ve been poking at my brother ever since, but he won’t say a word. Just tells me to mind my own.”
Relief filled me, along with just the tiniest bit of regret that I couldn’t ask Ava anything about how or what her brother was doing, now that she was suspicious. Instead, I only gave a lofty shake of my head.
“Then I’m going to take the party line and say the same. Nothing’s going on, Ava. I haven’t seen Vincent since that night.” I was sure my face was red, and I knew that if I lingered, I might break down and tell Ava everything, which would have been disastrous. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go throw away my trash. Want me to take yours?” I held out my hand.
Ava shook her head. “No, thanks. I need to go check on Julia. She’s been working so hard on the shower, and I want to make sure she isn’t overdoing.”
“Yeah—I was kind of shocked when I saw she was pregnant. Didn’t she just get married earlier this year?”
“Yes, and the baby was a bit of a honeymoon surprise for both Julia and Jesse. She was totally freaking out at first, but now, everything’s settled down, and they’re thrilled. I’m going to have a little goddaughter in the spring.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. I’m happy for them.” I gave Ava a quick hug. “And I’m happy for you, too. Hang in there, Ave. I know things are a little crazy now, but pretty soon, everything will calm down. You’re going to get your happy-ever-after.”
She smiled. “I never doubt that. It’s just getting through all the wedding stuff to find that happy ending—that’s the trick.” She stood up, too. “Speaking of which, one of the battles we’re fighting is the guest list. We have you down with a plus one—are you planning to bring a date?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.
“I—I don’t know. I guess I will. Probably. But I don’t know who yet.” I wanted to ask if Vincent was going to have a date, but of course, that was none of my business.
“Okay.” She seemed slightly disappointed in my answer, but that might have been only because my answer meant one more guest at her small wedding. “I better go see where Julia is and then mingle with the other guests. See you in December!”
And now, of course, it was December. I still didn’t have a date for the wedding. And what was even worse . . . I still wasn’t over my one night with Vincent DiMartino.