I'm Your Man (49 page)

Gretchen's eyes filled with tears, and she said, “You think I'm neurotic, don't you?”

“I think you've got baby blues,” I said. “Come on. How many Manhattan babies have two residences? It's time Emily found out about the dynasty she was born into.”

“You call that dump you live in—”

“If I remember correctly, you once told me it was a great apartment. So it's a little crowded right now. She won't mind. She already knows Nick and Gavin. It's time she met Dexter.”

“That ought to make her eager to come back home,” Gwendy said. “He's the ugliest cat I've ever seen.”

“He has character,” I argued.

“And really bad breath,” Gretchen said.

“And bad hair,” Gwendy added. “Sounds like my senior prom date.”

“You went to the prom with a guy?” Gretchen asked. “I actually went with a girl.”

“See all the things you don't know about each other? You need quality time alone. Emily and I are going to Blaine Manor.”

Gretchen took a deep breath and said, “Okay. I'll do it. But only two hours. Promise me. And you'll call if—”

“I promise.”

It was an hour before they finally put us into a cab, satisfied that I had every possible thing I could need for the drive home. I glanced back to see Gretchen standing forlornly on the curb, staring after us as we drove away. Then Gwendy put an arm around her, and the two of them turned to trudge down the sidewalk. Gretchen's arm slid around Gwendy's waist as they walked, and I smiled. They looked sweet together.

I felt like an idiot carrying the diaper bag when I stepped into the deli after the cab dropped me off. Since no one could see that there was a baby under my coat, it looked like I was carrying a hideously unstylish, oversized pastel purse. I really had to find Gretchen something more chic before she started venturing out with Emily. This one had been a gift from somebody.

“Mr. Blaine,” Amir called from behind the counter. “How are you today?”

“I'm great,” I said. I unbuttoned my coat and said, “Come meet my daughter, Emily.”

I was gratified by the way everything ground to a halt as Amir and assorted relatives examined Emily and congratulated me.

“You shouldn't have her out in this weather,” Amir scolded.

“I'm going home,” I promised. “I thought I should take a treat for Dexter to fend off sibling rivalry.”

“I'll wrap some tuna for you,” Amir said, hurrying behind the counter.

“Blaine.”

I turned, startled, to face Daniel. His eyes were riveted to Emily, who continued to sleep against my chest. His preoccupation gave me a chance to study him. In spite of the color the cold air had given his cheeks, he looked tired. It made my heart hurt.

“Would you like to hold her?” I finally asked.

He met my eyes and said, “I can't. The show's taping scenes in the park today, and I need to get back.”

“That explains the red snow gear,” I said.

He smiled faintly and said, “Cressida is going to be missing after an avalanche. Of course, everyone will suspect that Angus caused it.”

“It'll be the first time the snow up Jane-Therese's nose didn't come from South America,” I said.

He gave a surprised laugh and said, “You're right. Funny, Blaine.”

“I have my moments. Emily, wake up and watch Uncle Daniel trying to hide those cigarettes so I won't know he's smoking again.”

“Just now and then,” Daniel said. “She looks so tiny against your chest.”

“She'd look even smaller if Gretchen and Gwendy hadn't layered her in so many clothes.”

“I keep meaning to . . . but I wasn't sure . . .”

“They'd love to see you,” I said, adding tactfully, “Christmas sort of slipped by all of us, but things have settled down now.”

He nodded and said, “I have to get back. I'll call—”

“See ya,” I interrupted with our old litany.

“Yeah. See ya.”

I watched him stop outside the door to light his cigarette, then he was gone. By the time I walked home and climbed the five stories to my apartment, I was struggling not to cry. Gavin took the diaper bag and the tuna while I busied myself with Emily until I could regain my composure.

“Where's Nick?” I finally asked.

“Out shopping for CDs.”

“Great. We'll be living in hip hop hell.”

“It is great,” Gavin said. “He's with a friend.”

Something about the way he said it made me repeat, “A friend?”

“A boy,” Gavin said. “His name is Pete, and he's totally adorable.”

“No,” I moaned, looking at Emily. “It's supposed to be years before I have to start worrying about boys.”

“You get to practice with Nick,” Gavin said. Dexter strolled in, took a look at Emily, and made a quick dash for the kitchen. “Hmm. Maybe I should give him the tuna.”

I slouched on the sofa, pulling my legs up so I could prop Emily against them while I told her what a fine cat Dexter was. I looked up to see Gavin staring at us with an odd expression.

“What?”

“I don't know. That's kind of—there's something sexy about a muscular man holding a baby. A weird contrast of strength and gentleness.”

Too bad Daniel hadn't thought so. I pushed that thought out of my head and dedicated myself to my daughter's visit. She only cried once, and the bottle I heated stopped that. A couple of diaper changes, two tentative examinations by Dexter, and three phone calls from Gretchen later, I bundled her up again and took her home. I had to give a full account of everything we'd done while Gretchen checked her for damage. I left out the part about seeing Daniel. I didn't feel like being interrogated, especially by Gwendy, whose legal training made her formidable.

Instead of going back to my apartment, I took a cab to Central Park, wondering if I could find the
Secret Splendor
shoot. Without thinking, I fell into the walking routine Daniel and I had developed long ago, ending at Bethesda Fountain, which looked beautiful but so cold against the snowy landscape. I stared at the angel and said, “Come on, give me a miracle. How many times did we sit here admiring you, sharing ourselves with each other and you? I know he's in this park somewhere. Make him remember. Make him miss me as much as I miss him.”

People came and went, rushing to get out of the cold. Daniel wasn't among them. Once the light began to fade, I knew my opportunity had passed. The crew had undoubtedly stopped shooting, and the actors would have hurried away to get warm.

If it hadn't been for the red parka, he would never have caught my eye when I turned to walk home. He was on the bridge, his chin propped on his hands, watching me. I stopped and stared up at him for a minute, then we both started walking until we met on the road.

“I'm so cold,” he said, his teeth chattering.

I wrapped my arms around him, frustrated by his bulky clothing, and said, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Forever. Don't make me talk. Just hold me.”

“If I talk while I'm holding you, will you listen?” I felt him nod. “I'm sorry. For all the things I said that hurt you, and for all the things I didn't say, too. For not telling you about the baby. For the ways you found out about that and about Ethan. For forcing you to pose as my boyfriend and letting you think it was only for Gretchen and our other friends. I wanted to make you spend time with me. I thought it would help us work out some of our problems. Instead, it gave us new problems, made you tired and miserable, and pushed us farther apart. I proved you were right when you called me controlling and stubborn.”

“You always think,” he began haltingly, “that because I'm older, or because I've been around more, that I'm the strong one. I can't always be the strong one, Blaine.”

“I know. You don't have to be,” I said. “Your whole body is shaking. Let's get you home.”

“I can't,” he said. “I have to meet Kyle.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering who Kyle was. I felt hurt and stupid that I'd apparently misread what was happening between us. “Could we get together later? To talk?”

“You could go with me.”

“Go with you?” I repeated.

“Kyle is my realtor. I'm meeting him to look at an apartment.”

“Oh,” I said again, my elation that he wasn't meeting a date diminished by the news that he was moving. Moving on. Without me.

“You've been looking for a place, too, right?” he asked. “Maybe if this one isn't right for me, it'll be right for you.”

“Where is it?”

“Fifty-seventh.” His voice sounded flat when he added, “You're probably looking for a more fashionable address.”

“You make more money than I do now,” I pointed out.

“I don't want to leave the neighborhood,” he said. “I'm sentimental that way.”

I could have reminded him that I'd lived in Hell's Kitchen longer than he had, since I'd moved from Wisconsin a few months before he'd left the Chelsea apartment he once shared with Jeremy. But I knew he wasn't criticizing me. He didn't have the energy.

“Sure, I'll go with you,” I said.

We didn't talk as we walked toward Columbus Circle. I wasn't sure when he started crying, but he let me guide him out of the park and down the nearly deserted avenue to Fifty-seventh, where he seemed to get control of himself. He led me to an eight-story building before he stopped, looking a little lost.

“You're still shivering,” I said. “Do we have to wait out here?”

He shook his head and said, “I've got the key.”

I was glad that no one was at the concierge desk to make Daniel feel embarrassed about his tear-stained cheeks. We took the elevator to the seventh floor, then I followed him, taking the key from his fumbling hands to unlock the door. When we were finally inside the empty apartment, he seemed unable to go any farther. He sank down next to the door and drew his legs up, hugging them and resting his head against the wall while he cried.

I knew how much he hated breaking down in front of me, so I busied myself for a few minutes, testing switches until I found one that turned on frosted wall sconces, bathing the room in soft light. I looked around for a radiator or some kind of heater. The fireplace held what I assumed were gas logs, but I finally spotted a thermostat in the hall, turned it on, and felt a rush of warm air. I found the bathroom and took the roll of toilet paper from the holder, then went back to Daniel. He slid off his gloves and took some to wipe his face.

I pulled him to his feet and said, “Geez, your fingers are like ice.” He let me help him out of his coat, then I took mine off and pulled him to me. “Keep your hands against my chest so they'll get warm.”

I continued to hold him close while he rested his head against my shoulder, his sobs finally subsiding to an occasional shudder that tore at my heart.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“Shhh. Breathe.” I wasn't sure what else it was safe to say. I turned my face so that my lips were against his hair, inhaling the scent of smoke and snow and the aroma I loved most in the world—Daniel.

“I'm okay,” he finally said, but he didn't pull away.

“Is this guy gonna show up? You need to get out of these wet clothes.”

“I'm almost warm,” he said. “He left a message saying he'd be late. Good thing, huh?”

“We could tell him you get really emotional about central heat,” I said gently.

He laughed a little and pulled away to look at me, saying, “I didn't mean to fall apart on you. I'm a wreck.”

“No you're not.” I gently dabbed his face with toilet paper. “Blow.” He laughed again and blew his nose. “You want to check out this place before your realtor gets here?”

He nodded, and we looked around. The walls were freshly painted in ivory, except for the dining room, which was wallpapered below the chair rail in a dark blue. The six-inch baseboards were stained the same honey tone as the hardwood floors, and there were built-in bookcases on either side of the fireplace.

Our shoes made a hollow sound on the floor when we explored the rest of the apartment. It had two bedrooms and two bathrooms which, although small, gleamed with new tile and fixtures.

“Do you think it lacks charm because everything is so new?” Daniel asked as we went to the kitchen.

“Who cares?” I said, looking at the stainless steel appliances and thinking of my fickle oven. “Gavin would fall to his knees and worship that stove.”

“Maybe
you
should buy this place,” Daniel said.

I couldn't read his expression, but his red-rimmed eyes looked like they could overflow again any minute, so I decided to keep my conversation matter-of-fact.

“I don't know what I'm going to do. I need at least three bedrooms, and I should have four. I don't think there's anything in Hell's Kitchen that can meet my needs. What if I have to move to Connecticut or something?”

We turned when the door opened and Kyle came in. Daniel introduced us. “He's trying to buy, too, Kyle,” Daniel said. “You should give him your card, Blaine.”

“Sure,” I said, taking one out of my wallet and handing it to him. Violet would be shocked that I'd managed this much without her. “It seems like a nice building.”

“It's still being renovated,” Kyle said. “They're working their way down from the top. They just finished the fourth floor. There are several available apartments. In fact, the reason I'm late, Daniel, is because I have one to show you directly above this one. It's not on the market yet; the owner just found out his company is moving him to London. It's only one bedroom, although it has a small study that could be converted to a second bedroom. The square footage is less because it actually has a terrace. I know you wanted garden space. Do you want to look at it? I have the key.”