CHAPTER 13
I RAKED MY EYES over the e-mail again, trying to decide how to respond.
From: David Dylan
Sent: Mon, May 7, 2012 08:23 AM CST
To: Olivia Germaine
Subject: RE: Chicago M - Meet & Greet Invitation
Olivia,
Thanks for the invitation. Of course I will be there. I’m headed over to my latest project in a few hours. Come along & we can discuss my bachelor status.
DAVID DYLAN
SENIOR ARCHITECT,
PIERSON/GREER
I checked my watch for no reason at all. I had things to do, but the interviews took precedence.
From: Olivia Germaine
Sent: Mon, May 7, 2012 08:31 AM CST
To: David Dylan
Subject: RE: Chicago M - Meet & Greet Invitation
I’m all yours, just name the time/place.
Olivia Germaine
Associate Editor,
Chicago Metropolitan Magazine
ChicagoMMag.com
He was somehow just as commanding over e-mail. Or was it me? I was letting him get to me. I reminded myself to have a talk with him about boundaries. I was losing control of the situation and it frightened me. Between his reckless text and working with Lucy, it was getting out of hand. What is though? I asked myself. Is it all in my head? Almost immediately, his response came through.
From: David Dylan
Sent: Mon, May 7, 2012 08:33 AM CST
To: Olivia Germaine
Subject: RE: Chicago M - Meet & Greet Invitation
That is music to my ears. I’ll be by at 11:30. Lunch is on me.
DAVID DYLAN
SENIOR ARCHITECT,
PIERSON/GREER
~
I started when Jenny alerted me to David’s arrival, surprised to see the time. Eleven thirty on the dot. I’d been engrossed in research all morning and had meant to meet him downstairs. In a rush, I smoothed a self-conscious hand over my hair. I was thankful for my conservative outfit of a short sleeve white button down and dark navy high-waisted pencil skirt. A swipe of pink lip gloss and I was all set. Clutching my briefcase to my chest, I entered the lobby, where Serena and Beman talked giddily with David.
“Olivia, you didn’t mention an appointment with Mr. Dylan today,” Beman said airily. He gave me a nod when David wasn’t looking. “We’re so thrilled that you’ve agreed to be a part of the piece this year, David.”
He responded with an uncharacteristically sheepish look as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope it doesn’t turn out too bad.”
“Oh no,” Beman started. “It will be quite the opposite. I expect you’ll receive an emphatic response,” he said, batting his eyelashes shamelessly. “You know, I’ve followed your work since that piece in the Tribune years ago. I’d love to come along and see the space,” he ventured.
“Mrs. Germaine and I will use this time for our interview. With my hectic schedule, this is the only time I could spare.” I smiled secretly.
“I completely understand. Please consider Liv at your disposal,” he said with an over the top laugh, as though it were a hilarious joke.
“Ready?” he asked, looking at me with his hands on his hips.
“After you, Mr. Dylan,” I said, holding my arm out for him.
“No,” he chuckled, swinging the door open with ease and gesturing for me to pass through. “After you.”
Once we were in the hallway, away from prying eyes, I felt myself relax a little in his presence. How he managed to both wrack and calm my nerves baffled me.
“That guy tells anyone you’re at their disposal again, and I’ll throw him through the wall.”
I searched his face for a hint of teasing but found none. I was alarmed by the excitement it stirred in me.
His shoulders loosened. “How are you?” he asked pleasantly.
My mind scrambled to catch up with his shift in mood. I caught him inspecting the spot where the bruises had been. “Fine,” I replied nonchalantly and crossed my arms to cover my elbow.
He tapped his foot and peered down at me as we waited for the elevator.
“Er, how are you?” I asked.
“Better,” he said with a beatific smile, taking a hammer to my resolve.
~
He led me over to a classic black Porsche 911 so shiny and spotless, that it must have taken a deal with the devil to keep it that way, especially in this city. He opened the passenger door, and I blinked my eyes in disbelief.
“This is your car?”
“Yes. Get in,” he urged, and I crouched down to slide onto the leather seat.
I eyed the interior quickly as he rounded the car and spotted, as I had suspected, the signature Turbo logo.
“I love this car,” I said once he was behind the wheel.
“Are you a car girl?”
“Not really, but my dad always had a different sports car when I was growing up. I don’t really care, so long as it goes fast.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Hungry?” he asked.
“Starved,” I replied honestly. He looked at me curiously. “Oh, I eat. You’re probably not used to that,” I murmured.
He laughed. “You must work hard to keep such a great figure,” he commented, pulling out of the spot and into traffic.
“Um, sure,” I said under my breath, reddening. Aside from occasional run, I never worked out. “Did you have a nice time on Saturday night?”
“Moderate,” he replied. “I went to support Arnaud, but you were quite the distraction. I’d have rather been at your table.”
“No doubt, considering we were a table of five women.”
“I meant that I’d have preferred your company.”
I scoffed. “My company? I’d say you had your hands full with - what was it? Mar-eee-ah? She must have been the most beautiful woman in the room,” I said casually, feigning interest in something outside.
He made a noise, and my statement hung in the air. “Do I sense a hint of jealousy, Olivia?” He continued when I didn’t respond. “I am dating.”
“You can call me Liv, you know. Everyone else does.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
I gaped and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. That always worked on Bill; he was easily sidetracked. “All right,” I relented. “So you’re dating.”
“Is it something you wish to discuss?” he asked.
My chest tightened as I took in his profile, letting my gaze explore his face as he concentrated ahead. The only word I could think to describe his nose was strong. It had a slight bump that ended in an acute tip. Though smoothly shaven, I could see a shadow forming. His long lashes blinked and bushy eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the road, deepening the crow’s feet around his eyes. Defined muscles strained against a crisp shirt as he shifted gears and my hand twitched, desiring to reach over and feel them.
It was something I desperately wished to discuss. How could I tell him all the things that had crossed my mind lately, all the emotions that tore at my insides? I couldn’t. Not how I’d begun to question my marriage, how I sometimes wondered if it would be enough. He looked over at me questioningly.
“No,” I said quietly.
We rode in silence the rest of the way.
~
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dylan.” The hostess’s sleek ponytail, low-cut top and smiling red lips didn’t seem to catch his attention, but I had to admire her effort.
“This place is close to the site so we’re here a lot,” he explained.
“What exactly is the project?”
“It’s a resort hotel on the Chicago River.”
“Dylan,” The French accent boomed from across the restaurant just as we’d sat down. I recognized the approaching man as the one David had introduced to the table Saturday night.
“Arnaud Mallory, this is Olivia Germaine, writer for Chicago M.”
“Yes,” he said, and I shifted uncomfortably under the same stare he’d given me at the restaurant. “I remember.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said a little too loudly, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Enchanté, mademoiselle,” he replied, holding out his palm and bowing his head.
“Madame, actually,” I corrected, reluctantly allowing him to kiss the back of my hand.
He lifted his bent head and raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of us. “I’m sorry. Madame, then.”
“Are you going back to the office?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“I need you to go and look at those light fixtures we discussed. Today. We can make a final decision when I get back later,” he said, turning his attention back to me and effectively dismissing Arnaud. Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Germaine,” David mused once we were alone. “That’s not your husband’s name, is it?”
“How did you know?”
“I did my research,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“No, it’s not. And before you ask, I haven’t gotten around to it and you can address me however you prefer.” I smoothed a hand over my hair. “Makes no difference to me, I’ll be changing it soon.”
“I see,” he said, smiling into his menu.
“What’s good here, anyway?” I asked.
“Do you eat meat?”
“Obviously.”
“I know just the thing,” he said, taking my menu and setting it on the edge of the table. I started to object, but something about the excited look in his eyes stopped me.
After he’d ordered, I took a long sip of water that coated my insides. I hoped it would squelch the heat that he had ignited after his outburst earlier.
“So David,” I started. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do in your spare time?” I asked.
“I try to keep busy with work,” he said simply.
“I can see that. But you must blow off steam somehow?” I instantly blushed at the accidental insinuation.
“I sail and I enjoy a swim now and then,” he said, letting me off the hook.
“Oh?” I said distractedly as his shirtless image popped into my head. I remembered how in college, the swimmers had always had the best bodies. Figures, I thought.
He leaned in on his elbows. “How about you,” he paused and looked at me mockingly, “Liv?” His tone was sensual and his eyes concentrated. I blanched and reached for my ear, but his hand bolted out and caught my wrist. I froze. He released it slowly and eased back into his chair, looking to me expectantly.
“Well, there’s work,” I said. Duh. “I spend most of my free time with . . .” My voice trailed off when Bill’s face came to mind. “Gretchen and Lucy. Normal girl stuff.” I shrugged. “I read, and I volunteer at the local shelter. You know, when I need a dose of reality.” When he didn’t respond, I continued timidly, trying to read his strange expression. “Do you like dogs?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “My family dog is sick, and it’s been really tough,” he divulged.
My heart pulled with the instinct to console him, but I thought better of it. “Do you ever think about getting your own?”
“No,” he said, looking out the window. “I don’t have the time. Hopefully one day though.” Turning back to me, he added, “Canyon. His name is Canyon.”
I smiled and raised my water glass. “To a speedy recovery,” I said and clinked his glass. I was rewarded with a smile.
The waiter set down two juicy, stacked burgers with leafy side salads. I hurriedly devoured my salad and looked up to find him grinning at me.
“Hungry?” he asked, echoing his earlier inquiry.
“Well, yes . . .” I stopped, embarrassed.
“What?” he prodded.
“Actually, I hate salad, but my dad always made me eat it.”
“You know your dad isn’t here, right?”
“Mhm, but I feel like I have to eat it anyway, before I can touch anything else. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud,” I shrugged.
“Interesting,” he mused, nodding. “Delayed gratification.”
“Hmm?” I asked, chewing a forkful.
“Nothing, just soaking up everything I can about the elusive Olivia Germaine.”
I felt my face heat and, in an attempt to slow down, unceremoniously stabbed a couple leaves. “Well, don’t. We’re here to discuss you. How long have you known Arnaud?” I asked.
“Since I started with Pierson/Greer. Eight years maybe.” I went to pull out my notepad, and he touched my wrist. I drew back, startled by the unexpected contact.
“Let’s just talk, we can do that later.”
“All right,” I said, willing my heartbeat to slow. “So Arnaud, he’s also an architect?”
“He’s the other senior architect. A brilliant one, actually.”
“Oh.” So he’s not going anywhere, I thought. “Is he married? Single?”
“Why?” David eyed me suspiciously. “Are you considering him for the article also?”
I almost choked in response. “God, no.” I said, shaking my head. “I was just trying to soak up . . . your world, or whatever.”
He laughed. “He’s single. Eternally.”
“Must be a hazard of the job,” I muttered.
“It is,” he responded with a straight face. “We work a lot. Developing a relationship can be tough.”
I nodded understandingly. “Are you looking for something serious? Is that why you agreed to do the issue?”
“Yes and no. I’ve been ready to settle down for some time, work makes it hard though. Women say they can handle my schedule but they always want more. It’s not really the reason I decided to play along, though.”
I took a big bite and chewed slowly, trying to decide if I was irritated by his choice of words. “Bill works a lot too, and the firm is always sending him out of town. He’s a lawyer,” I added. “But I guess you knew that. Probably because he doesn’t have kids, he’s one of the first people they turn to.”
His lack of response caused me to look up from my food. He looked thoughtful as he examined his plate.
“So, if I were interviewing you, the next thing I might ask is where you went to college.”
“Yale for undergrad, and then Architectural Association in London.”
I felt suddenly inadequate.
“You?” he asked.
“Oh, Notre Dame.”
He smiled. “My father went there. It’s a great school, isn’t it?”
“Mine too.”
“Well what are the chances? Wonder if they know each other?” Dimples formed at the edges of his mouth as he grinned.
“What does he do, your father?” I asked.
“He’s retired now, but he was a CEO.”
“Of?” I asked even, though I knew the answer.
“GQS.”
Why did I ask? How do you respond to that? “That’s . . . that’s a good job.” He looked at me and we started laughing.
“It was,” he agreed. “They just moved back to Illinois a few years ago.”
“How did you like London?” I spat out before he could ask about my parents.
“It’s beautiful. One hell of a place to study architecture. Have you been?”
“With my parents as a child.”
“What do your parents do?”
“My dad is a consultant in Dallas, and my mother is a novelist.”
“Is your mother a novelist in Dallas?”
I shook my head and tried to avoid his intensifying stare.
“Divorced?” he asked. I nodded. “When?”
“Right before high school.”
“That must have been hard.”
I cleared my throat, wiped my mouth with a napkin and shrugged.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
“I chose Notre Dame because of my father, and because it was the best school I was accepted to. Gretch was going to University of Chicago so I liked that we wouldn’t be far. After graduation, Lucy and I moved here to live with Gretchen.”
“Did you always want to live here?”
“Actually, no. I thought I would end up in New York City.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re so close. Why not move?”
“It’s complicated,” I said, shaking my head.
“How so?”
“Boring stuff. What else ya got?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where - ”
Spain, I thought, not needing to hear the end of the sentence.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. You?”
“Yes you do,” he countered, narrowing his eyes at me.
Can’t a girl have any secrets? Why does he ask so many questions? I continued chewing leisurely, studying the way he studied me. “I don’t have time to think about that. Besides, Bill doesn’t like taking vacations.”
“That’s a shame. I guess I wouldn’t like fantasizing about surfing perfect breaks or gorging on oysters if I knew it wasn’t going to happen.”
I stopped mid-chew. Damn. I can totally envision him sporting a surfboard, sucking down an oyster . . . . I clenched my jaw.
“Anyway, wherever it is you have hiding in your head, you’ll get there. You seem like a girl who knows what she wants.”
“I’m hardly a girl,” I bristled, surprised by the assessment. Although these days I felt close to a self-indulgent child, walking the tightrope between fantasy and reality. But I couldn’t tell him that.
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Well, Mr. Dylan, I fancy that’s not a very polite question.”
“I see. Is politeness something you look for in a gentleman?”
“Is that not a defining characteristic of the gentleman?”
“Touché. Is politeness something you look for in a man?”
I stopped myself from gulping. “Hey now. Leave the personal questions to me. And I’m twenty-seven, anyway.”
“Well. You are a baby.”
“Why, how old are you?”
“Thirty-four.” I had thought as much. “I’m ancient,” he added.
“Not even.” I waved my hand and took a sip of water. I shut my mouth but my curiosity was piqued. Bill was just thirty, yet David seemed older and more distinguished. And until Bill, my only experience with an older man was when I’d lost my virginity to a junior in college when I was a freshman. Something told me this was different.
“That was one tasty burger. I’m so full,” I said, making a face.
“Really? I could eat another one.” I laughed when I realized he wasn’t joking. “I’ve got this,” he said, pulling out his wallet.
“Oh, no,” I insisted. “I might even be able to expense it,” I chirped. “Beman would be thrilled to - ”
“I’ve got it.” His tone was stern.
“No, really - ”
“Olivia,” he said with that same authority that had caught my attention before. I shrank in my seat.
“Is this because I paid for our drinks at Jerome’s?”
“You didn’t. Sherry didn’t charge us. Something about me looking upset and that I could use a break.”
I gaped at him. “Did you . . . ?”
“What?” he asked innocently.
I blinked furiously, trying to decide if I should laugh or scream.
“You think I went home with her because she comped my bill?” His laugh filled the restaurant. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not as bad as you think. She did get a decent tip though, thanks to you. Don’t pull that again.” I nodded mindlessly, feeling like I had no choice but to obey. I watched him settle the bill, surprised at how natural his company had been. Despite his jesting, I felt comfortable, as though we’d been longtime friends. It was just one more thing to feel confused about.
~
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take the Riverwalk. You can see the hotel from there - it’s part of the charm.” I followed as he led the way and soon we were winding our way along the water. There was so much more I yearned to ask him, to know about him, but we walked in easy silence, and it was equally as pleasurable.
The sun was high. Fluffy, dense clouds spotted the sky. The Chicago River gleamed with the reflection of the sun, as if it were covered in gold sequins. There was a slight chill in the air and it felt nice; everything seemed like it was just as it should be.
“That’s it,” he said. I tilted my head back and took in the imposing building. I had seen it before because it was impossible not to notice. It started with a slate grey base and seamlessly faded into steely grey mirrored glass. The building defied logic by curving outward along one side, dipping in and then bowing out again slightly, almost like the letter ‘B’. “What do you think?”
“It’s something else, David.”
“Is that good?”
I turned my body so I was facing him, shielding my eyes as I glanced up at his face. I searched for a hint of humor but saw none. “Do you really need me to tell you?”
“Yes.”
I turned my head back, squinting against the sun. “It’s unexpected. I love how it’s all glass so it reflects the blue of the sky and the water, but . . . there’s this sort of silver sheen to it, right? Against the stone slabs – what color is that, graphite? It’s almost . . . fluid?” When I realized I was rambling, I became self-conscious. “This isn’t exactly my area of expertise,” I finished, blushing.
“No, you’re right,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I’m sorry. I just love watching you talk.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and started toward the entrance while I stared after him. “Coming?”
I jumped to attention, taking long strides to catch up. Large palm trees sprung from the ground, greeting us as they lined the walkway. “Palm trees?” I raised my eyebrows.
“This will all be grass,” he said, motioning toward the empty lots by the entrance. “And,” he continued, lighting up, “this will all be open. The lobby is entirely glass with sliding doors that will stay open during the warmer months.”
I walked over and touched the stone, surprised at how rough it felt, despite its smooth appearance. I remembered the contrasting feel of the cool marble of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Clean grey edges and long rectangular windows structured the front of the hotel. I had visions of waves crashing and foaming against black sand beaches.
David slid the door aside and motioned me through. “Welcome to the Revelin Resort.”
“Dave!” someone called from across the hollowed out room. A sturdy man approached, immediately engaging David in conversation. I wandered around the room, envisioning what it would become. It wasn’t much to see because of the construction, but I admired the al fresco vibe David had incorporated with large windows that spilled natural light.
I looked back in his direction. Three different people stood before him now, each one looking to him for something. His presence at my office had been overpowering, and it was just as much so here, even in all the empty space.
He stopped talking suddenly and looked about the room, uneasily it seemed, until he spotted me watching him. That current lasered between us in an instant. There was much unspoken, but I felt bound to him in an inexplicable, supernatural way. He came to me, leaving behind questioning faces, and I crossed my arms to keep from reaching out to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he approached.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded up at him confidently, trying to convey what I felt with my eyes. He placed a cautious hand on my shoulder, and the heat seared through my blouse, stinging the flesh directly beneath it. Broad shoulders acted as a shield to anyone who might be watching our restrained contact. I was painfully aware that it was the closest we could be without serious consequences. I studied his face, noting how the creases deepened with concern.
“I don’t want to push you,” he said, dropping his arm. “You need to make your own decisions.”
“Decisions?” I repeated. It had never occurred to me that I needed to decide anything. “David, my decisions were made years ago.” My words caught, and I tried to take a deep breath but my chest constricted. “I need you to be strong for me,” I said. “If we want to have any type of friendship I need to know that . . .”
“I know,” he said thickly, shoving his hands back in his pockets.
“That text the other night . . . If Bill had seen it . . . And now you’re working with Lucy?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, but I haven’t told her about the article yet.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I hesitated. “I guess it feels wrong.”
“Why? It’s work.”
“David, please. I’d really like us to be friends.” At that he grimaced. “Just please try to be more discerning, and don’t mention anything to Lucy just yet.”
“All right. I can back off.” He folded his arms across his chest and focused on the wall behind me.
“Thank you,” I said to deaf ears. I felt, inside, like the building; hollowed out and gutted. I had begun to crumble under David’s command, and I couldn’t help but feel like one of his projects. Was the deconstruction of my very being intentional?
“Wait here,” he said. “There’s one more thing I want you to see.” He returned a moment later with a conspicuously red helmet on his head and another in his hand.
“Better put this on,” he said, handing it to me. I wrinkled my nose at it and then looked up at him in full pout mode. My hair didn’t need another reason to act out. His face was stern as he urged me to take it, so I reluctantly agreed, carefully placing it atop my head.
I followed him through the scaffolding and over to the hoist, where he motioned me in. Tentatively, I took a step into the cage, testing the sturdiness of it. He stepped in behind me, and it jolted to life, carrying us slowly upward. When I realized we were approaching the roof, I stood on the tips of my toes.
“So this will be accessible to the guests in the penthouse suite,” he said as we stepped into the breezy sunshine. “This gutted area, next to the deck, will be a private infinity pool. It has a glass bottom so you can see into it from the suite.”
“How voyeuristic,” I mused. “Wow, does it hang over the edge?”
“Yes.” He led me over toward the edge, motioning for me to stop. “It’s cantilevered so you can swim out of the building and over the city. Listen,” he warned, “as you can see, there’s no barrier, so keep back. I just wanted you to see the view.”
I nodded, feeling child-like in my obedience. I rotated to take in the astonishing three hundred and sixty degree view of Chicago, thanks to the fact that the hotel was one of the tallest buildings in the city. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of an absolutely temperate day; the sun shone brilliantly, and it was just warm enough when I stood directly in it.
I edged closer and David tensed beside me. Being so high above everything else and completely alone with David was exhilarating. After the moment we’d just had, with his hand on me, I felt close to him. But not just physically. I was still buzzing from that unavoidable electric current, which had only heightened with his touch. I craned my neck over and took a step. And then another. I wanted to see what it would take to feel him again, to get that rush of electricity. I rolled forward on the balls of my feet. A little more lean . . . until he gently gripped my arm and pulled me back. It was no less stimulating, his touch, despite my plea to behave. I almost wished it were something that came with a knob, so I could turn it down. Almost.
“It’s so . . . ,” I started, looking out at the water, trying to find the words.
“Humbling,” he finished.
There wasn’t one person in our world, not one person who could see us upon the glass mountain. The breeze kicked, blowing my hair wildly so that I had to remove the hardhat and smooth it from my face. I tucked it under my arm and peered up at him. Another whip of the wind blew strands into my lip gloss. I could not take my eyes off of him.
Something in the air crackled with a charge that quickened my breath. At last, he turned his head and looked down at me, returning my stare. Briefly, so I almost didn’t see, he wet his lips, and I bit mine in response. I yearned to know how his mouth would feel on my skin, and I was sure it was written on my face. Any woman who looked as I must have right then knew exactly what she was doing.
I stood against the wind as it picked up speed. His face was unreadable as he looked into my eyes, but my breath shallowed in anticipation. I leaned a little closer, readying myself for what was surely coming. The wind lashed violently, and David abruptly looked away, squinting into the skyline.
The helmet slipped from my grip and bounced on the ground. He swooped down and grasped it effortlessly, handing it to me. “Put that on,” he ordered, avoiding my eyes. “Let’s go.”
~
The floor was quiet when I returned to work. I sneaked into my office, hoping to avoid Beman’s third degree. In the car, the mood had changed already. David seemed distant and although it bothered me, I knew it was for the best. It was what I had asked him for.
After working steadily for an hour, I headed into the kitchen for a break. Serena and Lisa were giggling over yogurts.
“Where’ve you been?” Lisa asked.
“She had an appointment with David Dylan,” Serena offered.
“Oh,” Lisa said, looking away.
“Wait, have you seen this? Beman brought it,” Serena said, picking up a magazine. She flipped through and held it open for me. I found myself staring at the Architectural Digest article. I glanced at them impassively. Despite my messy afternoon with David, controlling my reaction in front of most people was second nature.
“Wow, he is so hot,” she said. “He’s like, even better in person though.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
“Good thing you’re married, Liv,” Lisa said. Her eyes looked me up and down before proceeding. “How’d you get him to agree?”
“He’s a friend of a friend,” I said, even though it wasn’t exactly the reason. It was a question I’d been wondering myself.
“Well, aren’t you lucky. Lucky Liv,” she said with a face that looked as though she’d just bit into a lemon. Lemon-y Lisa, I retorted in my head.
“If it weren’t for Brock . . . , ” Serena started.
“Please,” Lisa said with a scoff. “If he even looked your way, you’d be on your back in a second.”
“I would not. Brock and I are, like, soul mates I guess and, well . . . .” Lisa and I waited for her to finish her thought, but nothing came.
I rolled my eyes at them. “Can I keep this? It will be good for his file.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Beman,” Serena joked. “He’ll totally want that for his own private file.” We laughed and stopped all at once when he waltzed into the kitchen.
“Ah, Olivia, there you are,” Beman said.
“Here I am,” I said, tucking the magazine under my arm.
~
“What a lovely place,” Davena said, fingering the ‘Just Listed’ card for the house we’d seen. I’d stopped by her place after work to go over the details, more inclined to trust her opinion on the amenities over Jeanine’s.
“You think?” I asked. “Bill really likes it, I’m just a little on the fence.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know, I guess it just doesn’t feel like the right place. Across the street though, there’s this eyesore of a home that weirdly, I liked better. At least it had character. But Bill likes this place.”
“Well,” she sighed heavily. “Sometimes you have to compromise a bit.”
“I’m already compromising,” I muttered under my breath, settling further into her sofa.
“Are you? How?”
I pursed my lips a moment. “I just really love the city, and I don’t know that I want to leave.”
“Why are you then?”
“Bill doesn’t like it as much. He wants something quieter. And he wants children at some point.”
“Kids certainly aren’t quieter,” she pointed out. “Are you saying you don’t? Want children, I mean?”
“I’m not sure. I never really think about it, which I think means something. Why didn’t you and Mack have kids?”
“We did,” she said. “I had a child many years ago, but he didn’t make it a day.”
I gasped. “I had no idea, Davena.”
“You were a baby,” she said, waving her hand. “God’s plan. I just didn’t have the heart to try again, and Mack was supportive. Next thing I knew, I was just too old. I don’t regret it though, kids aren’t for everyone. Although Mack would have been quite a father,” she mused with a smile.
She got up and left the room, returning in just her bra and teasing her short hair in jerky, upward motions. “You know, not everywhere is going to feel like home right away. It takes time. It’s about whom you’re making a home with. If you love Bill, which you do, it doesn’t matter where you live.”
As she spoke, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the large bandage on her ribcage and the ominous purple bruise peeking out both ends of it. Her normally robust and fit frame had become terrifyingly frail in the short amount of time since I’d last seen her.
She stopped brushing, noticing my gaze, and came to sit next to me. Her breathing was labored as she confided, “The doctor says it’s not looking good.” Despite the statement, her sunken eyes twinkled; she’d never been one to dwell. “I’m feeling okay though. How is Bill anyway?”
“Bill?” I knew from previous attempts that she wasn’t looking for consolation, and that it was best to go with the subject change. “He’s well. Busy, though. I think we’re going to go to Waukegan this weekend since he’s been working late this whole week.”
“Wonderful idea. Show that Bill of yours how much you appreciate his hard work.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Get yourself over to La Perla before you go, and ask for Alejandro. He’s gorgeous, but can’t sell lingerie for shit,” she said with a wink. “So when you’re done looking at him, ask for Joanne. Tell her to put it on my account.”
I laughed loudly. “Oh, Davena, you are something else. Do you ever stop?”
“Never, it drives Mack crazy. But you only have one shot at life, Olivia, and take it from me, you don’t want to miss anything. If you want something, say it out loud. If you love him, tell him so. Seriously.” I was stunned by her insistent tone and sudden grave expression, something I’d never seen, even when she’d revealed her diagnosis to me. Her eyes lingered on mine a moment while her words hung in the air, and then she looked away. “Listen, sweetie, can I keep this? I know Mack would love to put in his two cents.”
“Definitely, that’s an extra. Have him call us when he gets a chance – I’d better get home though. Dinner won’t cook itself.”
“Ta-ta,” she said as she walked me to the door. “See you soon.”
On the way to the train, Bill called from his office, triumph in his voice. “Cabin is booked. Can’t wait for a weekend away. I might even get to relax.”
“Well don’t get too used to it,” I said. “And don’t forget to call Andrew.” Bill and Andrew had been looking forward to cabin time for a while, waiting for a warmer weekend. Fishing wasn’t my thing, but an enormous amount of alcohol usually helped. That, and Lucy’s company.
“I’m on it,” he said.