32aa (25 page)

He’s telling me that it’s been a long time, a lonely time. And as he sings “lonely time” directly in front of me,
to me,
I can’t help myself. I echo the lyric for him.

“Yes it has,” I say.

It’s so romantic. He can’t sing worth toffee, but it
is
romantic. And he brings the house down. Everyone cheers and claps as he finishes.

And then he’s standing in front of me.

How can I possibly resist a man making such a fool of himself for me?

How can I possibly resist a man who adopts pathetic, condemned dogs?

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi yourself,” I say, wishing I could think of something more clever. But this is Jack. I remember my vow to just be myself.

My bodyguards have mysteriously disappeared. Even Rachel. I see her across the room with Hugh, and as she smiles encouragement at me, I smile back. Not that I need her encouragement or approval, but it’s nice to have it, isn’t it?

“Emma,” Jack says, and he’s really awkward. Really nervous. “Can we talk, do you think? Please?”

Now I could say (a) “How’s Karen?” or (b) “It’s too late for talking, baby, you sure missed your chance” or (c) “Yes.”

But he looks so scared and miserable.

(c) it is.

“Yes,” I say.

“Do you mind if we take a walk? There’s something I want to show you.”

“Okay.”

As we leave the restaurant, our progress is followed by at least ten pairs of watchful eyes, and I am glad to get away.

We walk in silence. We are not doing a good job of having even a basic conversation. But I am so nervous that my tongue has swelled to gigantic proportions in my mouth and
I cannot even
open
my mouth. And then I realize where we’re going.

“Why are we going to your house?” My voice comes out like a frog croak.

“I didn’t sleep with her, you know,” he says, quickly.

“What?”

“Karen. The night we found Beauty. You were right.”

“Oh?” I must stop speaking in words of one syllable. How stupid do I sound? How relieved am I? He didn’t sleep with her!

“I
was
looking for an out,” he continues, looking at his shoes. “I
was
waiting for betrayal. I’ve thought a lot about what you said.”

“I didn’t betray you,” I say. And then it all comes out in a garbled rush. “I just needed closure with Adam. I didn’t love him anymore, but I had to hear whatever it was he had to tell me. And when he asked me to go back to him, I needed to tell him no and feel that I really meant no. And all the time he was talking, I couldn’t concentrate and I was thinking about you. So I told him no, and came back home looking for you. Is this making any sense?”

“Yeah, and I brought back a broad. Very grown-up of me, so I’ve been told,” he says, smiling wryly.

And I can’t help myself. I smile back.

“You have very protective friends—great friends.”

“I know.”

“So what were you coming back to talk to me about that night?” he asks, and he’s nervous, but so am I.

“Mutual boundaries,” I say, smiling. “I thought something like an alliance…”

“A treaty of intent.”

“Yeah.” I laugh manically, my anxiety obvious. “God, we sound like two politicians discussing borders.”

“I know. It’s easier, isn’t it, though? To avoid the personal, mushy stuff. I’m no good at mushy stuff,” he says, pushing a hand through his blond wig. “Oh, I forgot I was wearing this.”

“It’s very becoming,” I say. “I bet you’re really good at mushy stuff.” And then, because I’m getting more confident with each passing moment. “Tell me something mushy.”

“I love you.”

Oh God, he said it. He really said it, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“I love you, too.”

“Good,” he says, faintly, looking relieved but at the same time disbelieving. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

“So are you going to show me your etchings?” I ask, as we turn onto his street.

“Later, princess, later,” he says to me. “But first, I want to show you this.”

He takes my breath away again.

There, parked in front of his house, is a yellow Beetle.

My
yellow Beetle.

“I thought you said it was too girly,” I say, but he can see that I’m happy, because I’m dancing. I’m so happy I’m pirouetting in my Manolos.

“Hey, I’m in touch with my feminine side,” he says, catching my hands and spinning me around on the sidewalk.

“So what do you think, Emma Taylor?”

“I think,” I say, pulling his head down toward mine. “I think that this is the
right
Beetle, Jack Brown.”

And then I kiss him.

LIFE GOALS
Emma Beaufort Taylor
Age 30 and 364 days

1. Move in with Jack. Live with him forever.
   
2. Have Jack’s babies. But not yet, I have a career to pursue.
   
3. Have dinner with lovely friends at Chez Nous every Sunday night.
   
4. Make monthly donations to aid Human Rights and World Peace. Although I also like the idea of buying more livestock for Third World villages.
   
5. Get a new roof for Jack’s house. Of course, if I got a Tiffany’s engagement ring, that would be lovely. But he really needs the new roof before winter.
   

6
A
.
M
.

Radio alarm clicks on. I blearily open my eyes and remember that it’s my birthday. I will not obsess just because I am thirty-one.

And then I remember that I’m in Jack’s house. In Jack’s bed…Heaven!

“And now,” comes the voice of the morning DJ on my favorite classic rock station, “we have a very special dedication. This is for Emmeline Beaufort Taylor, from her boyfriend Jack. Emma, babe, the next song is just for you.”

It’s Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love.”

Oh, how lovely.

I’ve never had a more romantic gift in my life.

And as I snuggle back toward Jack so I can give him all of
my
love, his arm comes around me and pulls me toward his morning erection.

“Don’t get any ideas about breakfast in bed, old lady,” Jack tells me, nibbling my shoulder.

And then, quite a long time later, he tells me something else, too.

“Emmeline,” he says. “Naked is a great look for you.”