Love Minus Eighty (31 page)

Rob had no idea where this was going, but his father’s distress in telling it was so obvious, Rob could barely breathe.

“Me and your mom talked for a minute about what I found out about Shorty and the fuel. Then I said, ‘I love you’ like I did fifty times a day, and she said she loved me too, like she always did, only—” He stopped messing in the sink, turned to face Rob, braced his hands on the countertop. “Only she was lying.”

Rob shook his head emphatically. “No, Dad, you can’t assume the readout was accurate. There are a hundred other possible explanations.” Frantic, he tried to generate some, stammered for a moment before his brain kicked into gear. “Maybe something else was bothering her, and the stress came through in her voice when she answered.”

Lorne shook his head. “The thing is, it was bothering me so much, I asked her about it, and she admitted it.” Rob wanted to tell his father he didn’t want to hear this, that most of the other pilings that kept his life steady had already torn loose, and he needed the few that remained. But it was clear Lorne needed to tell this, maybe more than Rob needed to believe his parents’ love was true and perfect.

“She said she cared about me, but never felt that thump-thump that I feel for her.” Lorne turned around, grabbed a towel off the rack. “We had a rough time for a while after that. Finally, she said she could only feel what she felt, and that it was enough for her. Always had been. And she hoped it was enough for me.” Lorne cleared his throat, then cleared it again,
violently, as if there was something barbed down in there. “In the end I decided it was. But it was a hard lesson.”

Rob wasn’t sure what to say. He looked down the hall, at the closed door to his parents’ room. His parents’ love for each other had always been something so tangible he could almost point to it, almost roll it around in his hand, feel how smooth and perfect it was.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

His dad considered. “We tried to keep things simple for you, but nothing’s simple now. I thought you might as well know the truth. It’s never as clear as it seems, no matter who you are. No matter who she is.”

Lorne rose, disappeared down the hall for a moment, returned carrying Rob’s lute. He handed Rob the lute. “You worked hard for your music. Harder than I’ve ever seen anyone work for anything. Now play, damn it. You can’t have Winter, no matter how hard you work.” He went into his bedroom, leaving Rob clutching his lute.

I slimmed you down by twelve pounds
, Veronika sent to her client, whose name was Harmonia.
Any more than that and men will know the clips are altered once you go IP.

I have a state-of-the-art system, and I’m good with it. I’ll make sure they see the skinnier me IP
, Harmonia sent back.

For thirty years? And will you insist he wear his system during sex? You’ve got to think ahead.

Someone pinged her, and her hierarchy of hopefulness kicked in as she checked who it was. She’d only recently become aware that there was a clear hierarchy as to whom she hoped was pinging her. It was Rob, who was tied for second in her hierarchy.

She pinged back, and Rob opened a screen in her apartment. It was so much more convenient to be friends with Rob now that he had a system again.

“Where are you?” Veronika asked, while keeping up the consultation with her client.

“I’m just coming out of a Zen Buddhist service.”

“Can I ask why?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Can we meet IP?”

“Pick a place,” Veronika said.

She could barely see the priest from their seats, which were way up in the nosebleed section, two hundred feet above, and a hundred away, from the dais. They had the whole section to themselves, well out of earshot of other worshippers, even with the cathedral’s outstanding acoustics.

“Can I trust you to keep this to yourself?” Rob asked.

“If that’s a condition for hearing what this is all about, I have no choice but to say yes. I must know what’s going on.” Everyone knelt on the little cushions set on the floor. Rob and Veronika followed suit. “What is it about?” she added.

Rob shrugged, his head bowed. “It’s about love.”

For an instant, Veronika thought Rob might be about to profess his love for her, then realized how dumb that thought was. “Transfer a dollar to me.”

Rob looked confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m a professional. Contract me to give you relationship advice and I’m obligated to keep it confidential.”

Rob seemed amused by this, but he made the transfer. “So now it’s official?” He took a deep breath, as if he was going to say something else, then stalled.

“Go ahead, spit it out. I’ve heard it all.”

Rob smiled wanly. “You haven’t heard this one.”

Now she was curious. She waited patiently while Rob worked out what he wanted to say. “I’m here because I’m hoping I’ll bump into Winter. She goes to a different religious service each week.”

Veronika groaned. “How could I have missed it?” She was slipping—how had she not picked up on it sooner? All the pain Rob was going through when it looked like Winter was going to be buried. How ironic. How perfectly, achingly romantic. How utterly hopeless. “Does she know?”

They rose and returned to their seats along with the rest of the congregation.

“I think so. I told her I loved her, that day I thought I was seeing her for the last time.”

“That might have tipped her off.”

“She told me she can’t ever see me again.” He looked crestfallen.

Veronika reached out and rubbed his back for a second. “Shit, Rob, that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you want my advice, or just a sympathetic ear?”

He looked at her, eyes like a wounded puppy. “I might as well hear your advice. I paid for it.”

“Yes, you did.” She folded her hands as if in prayer. “So here it is. Two thoughts. First, I think it’s possible some of what you’re feeling is situational. She was totally reliant on you, totally helpless. You were her knight in shining armor. It would be surprising if some transference and countertransference
hadn’t
occurred.”

Rob stared at the vaulted ceiling, arms folded. “I promise you, what I feel isn’t because she needed me. And stop using words I have to look up to understand.”

“Sorry. I’m not suggesting your feelings aren’t real. I’m saying the situation magnified them.”

“What’s number two?”

“Hopefully this one will be worth the whole buck, right?” Veronika waited for a laugh, didn’t get one. “This is a mess. There’s nothing ahead for you but pain. Move on. Find someone
else, even if you’re not—” Veronika stopped, because Rob was squeezing his palms over his ears. “What?”

“Don’t even suggest it. There’s no way I could be with someone else.”

“Rob, you don’t have a choice. Things can’t possibly work out, even if she feels the same as you. Do you even know if she does?”

“No. And I understand what you’re saying—I know we can never be together. All I want is to be friends with her.”

Organ music swelled, filling the church. Everyone rose for the second hymn.

“Being friends with her would just make you more miserable.”

“Does being friends with Nathan make
you
miserable? Maybe you’d be happier if you cut off all contact with him?” Rob asked, his eyebrows raised.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

She struggled to answer, knowing it was different, but not able to pinpoint why. When the answer came, it startled her, because she hadn’t fully realized it until that moment. “Because I don’t really want to fall in love. Nathan is safe because he’s unattainable.”

“So is Winter,” Rob countered. “If the best I can hope for is to be friends with her and love her in secret, I’ll take it.”

Rob had her. He’d run circles around her logic. Either he was right, and he was better off pursuing a hopeless half measure with Winter than being without her, or Veronika’s friendship with Nathan was making her miserable. She could take her pick. It was a strange and terrifying thought, that her life would be better without Nathan in it. She was not sure she wanted to travel any farther down that road.

“But what can you do?” she asked. “Winter told you not to contact her. You don’t want to become a creepy stalker, hanging out in places where, if you did bump into her, you’d struggle to explain what the hell you were doing there.” She gestured emphatically at the cathedral surrounding them.

“No, I don’t. I know. But I also don’t want to never see her again. So where does that leave me?”

Rob was waiting for an answer, but Veronika didn’t have one. It wasn’t like she could contact Winter and try to intervene; she’d only met Winter a couple of times while she and Nathan were together. On top of that, Veronika was fairly sure Winter’s decision to make a clean break from Rob was a wise one. Winter might well be the only emotionally healthy person in this whole situation. Veronika wished she could spend more time with her, maybe get her take on Veronika’s situation with Nathan.

Then she remembered Winter had gone out with Nathan, and went running late at night to try to forget him when they broke up. Clearly, she’d had a thing for Nathan. Maybe she wasn’t all that emotionally stable after all.

Veronika did feel a strong connection to her, though, after creating the profile that helped free her. Come to think of it, a lot of people had pitched in to help Winter, including Rob. A lot of people had contributed money to her cause in those frantic months. Everyone would probably enjoy a chance to bask in the success of their effort, to break bread with the prisoner they helped free. How could Winter say no to that?

The question was, wasn’t it in Rob’s best interest to allow Winter to keep her distance? What good would it do to get them together in a room?

Rob was watching her carefully, reacting to her facial
expressions with tilts of his head. Shit. She was overthinking things. It would make her friend happy.

Veronika smiled at Rob. “Here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to throw Winter a welcome-back-to-life party.”

Rob tilted his head farther, as if he’d misheard her. “We’re going to what?”

“We’re going to throw her a party. Or actually, I’m going to throw it. You think she’d come?”

Rob thought about it. “I guess. I mean, how could she say no? She knows the part you played in saving her life.”

The music rose to crescendo; people began to file out. Evidently the service was over. Rob and Veronika stood. “Do you want me to do this? I will if you want me to.”

Without hesitation, Rob said, “Yes. I want you to do it.”

“All right, then. I’ll start sending out the invitations.” A thrill went through her, imagining all of them there together.

As soon as they were outside, she pinged Nathan.

Nathan materialized via screen, followed an instant later by Lorelei.

“
Salud
,” Nathan said. “What’s the context?”

“I’m throwing a welcome-back party for Winter, and you’re both invited.”

Nathan’s screen bobbed into the air. “Holy shit, what a great idea!” Veronika had no doubt that before the words were out of his mouth, he was already working his system, spreading the word to his friends before they heard it from someone else. Lorelei was probably following suit, though most of her friends would have heard themselves. Did Veronika detect a flicker of envy on Lorelei’s perfectly symmetrical face? How badly did she wish this was her idea, so she could be the queen of the ball?
Too late, sweetie.

Since the theme of the party was freedom, Veronika had decorated the space with blue sky and fluffy white clouds. All of the inner walls in her apartment were retracted, and to anyone with a system (which was everyone present) the perimeter of the apartment dropped off into empty sky.

Rob watched Winter from across the crowded room as she laughed with a crowd of well-wishers, who pressed around her, basking in the glow of the moment’s celebrity.

A familiar-looking woman approached Rob, her hand out. “I guess I was wrong about you.” Now Rob recognized her: Winter’s friend, Idris. “I’m sorry I was so terribly mean to you.”

“No, you had every right. I appreciate you providing me with Nathan’s name. If I hadn’t made that connection, Winter might still be in the minus eighty.”

Smiling warmly, Idris thanked him and moved on. Across the room Winter spun, turned in the opposite direction
from Rob as Veronika got her attention and introduced her to Lycan, who simultaneously shook her hand and sort of bowed, smiling his big shy smile. If there was ever a gentle giant, it was Lycan. Now that Rob had more time in his life, he wanted to get to know Lycan better. Veronika said he was probably the smartest person in the entire city, which was difficult to fathom.

It took all of his willpower to resist following Winter like a lost puppy as she mingled. He’d considered the possibility that his father and Veronika were right, that his feelings were the result of her total reliance on him while she was in the bridesicle place, and of his desperate guilt-driven desire to please her. When Rob tried peeling all of that away, all he found beneath it was a glowing certainty that he would be in love with her no matter how they’d met. And why was it so unlikely that you could meet your soul mate by hitting her with your vehicle? Why was it more likely you’d meet her at your cousin’s wedding?

The door opened, and Lorelei made her entrance, surrounded by her hovering entourage, her arm draped in Nathan’s. Rob could see Winter’s smile tighten when she saw Nathan. He and Lorelei went right over to Winter, and she graciously shook their hands in turn. Lorelei put her hand on Winter’s shoulder, whispered something in her ear. Winter nodded.

“Let me stand here so it’s not so obvious you’re staring.” Veronika, holding a pink drink in a pouch, took up a position just to the right of his line of sight on Winter.

“It’s too obvious?”

“You’re standing all alone. Your face screams, ‘I’m pining for that woman over there.’ Yes, too obvious.” She sipped her drink. “You don’t have to talk to me.” She waved the back
of her fingers at him. “Just go on staring. Move your mouth once in a while so it looks like we’re talking, in case she looks over.”