I'm Your Man (51 page)

“You promised these were snow days,” she said. “No work.”

“This is personal,” I said. “I'll give you genie pay if you can achieve another miracle for me.”

She listened quietly while I told her what I wanted, then stoically promised to do her best. In turn, I had to promise to answer my cell phone to help her work out any details.

The next day,
Secret Splendor
had again planned to take advantage of the snow in Central Park. We woke up before sunrise and put together a hurried breakfast. I tantalized Daniel with descriptions of Gavin's cooking. He was sure that even when we lived together, Gavin wouldn't get up at dawn to cook for him. When I set our eggs on the table, I saw the key placed next to my napkin.

“Take it back?” Daniel said, making it a question.

I nodded and said, “Until we get new ones.”

We left his place together. I went home to change clothes and make a few calls. Gavin had packed a weekend suitcase for me. I dropped it at Daniel's apartment, then walked to the park to keep him company between takes. Fortunately, it wasn't a Jane-Therese day, since Cressida Porterhouse was supposedly buried in snow, so things went smoothly.

“I'm not as cold today,” Daniel said at one point when I was rubbing his hands.

“Must be love,” the makeup artist said, shooing me away.

“I think you two are great,” an intern gushed as she handed me a cup of coffee. “You're both so honest and open about your lives—”

I didn't hear the rest of what she said because Daniel and I met each other's eyes and started laughing.

After six hours of scurrying between the overheated production trailer and the taping site, we started our weekend by walking to his apartment, picking up lunch on the way. We spent the afternoon tangled together on his bed, talking about a year's worth of emotions and experiences. When we finally subsided into silence, he caught me glancing at the clock.

“Do you see her every day after work?”

“Or after the gym,” I said.

“You can go. I understand.”

“Do you want to come with me?” I asked.

“Next time. You talk to them first, and let them know we're back together. Maybe then I won't feel like I'm on stage when I see her.”

I felt a little uneasy about the plan I'd asked Violet to carry out, but merely said, “You do that so well.”

“Hurry back,” he said.

Gwendy was at the library, and Gretchen said I was just in time to help bathe Emily. I filled the baby tub with warm, soapy water, then sat on the counter and handed Gretchen things as she needed them.

“All right, it's obvious you aren't going to tell me unless I ask. Is it true? What Violet told me?” she asked.

“Daniel and I are officially the couple we professed to be,” I assured her.

“Are you happy?”

“Oh, my god,” I said, giving her an ecstatic look.

She crowed with laughter, then hammered me for details. I prudently left out the sexy parts, but she seemed satisfied by my account. Later, as I was leaving, I said, “Okay. I'm not coming tomorrow. I want to devote my whole day to him. We need our privacy and solitude. I'll see you Sunday night, right?”

“You don't have to feel guilty, Blaine. There'll be days you can't see Emily. I know there's a world out there. Just because I'm becoming agoraphobic—”

“Yeah, well, fixing you is my next project,” I interrupted.

“Really? How do you propose to do that?”

“The usual way,” I answered. “I'll tell Violet to handle it.”

“It's reassuring to know that some things never change,” she said.

Saturday and Sunday with Daniel were like a dream. We had food delivered and ignored the television and his phone. My cell phone never rang, which I took as a good sign.

Sunday evening we were back in bed when Daniel said, “I keep waiting for the next thing.”

“The next thing?”

“For months, every peaceful moment was followed by a fight, a reporter, a news story, or a boss breathing down our necks. All this peace and quiet is making me edgy.”

“Good,” I said, “because I made plans for us tonight.”

“To do what?”

“You'll know soon enough.”

“Oh, already the secrets and battle for control start,” he said.

“And the bitching,” I countered.

“All right, have it your way. It's pointless to fight. You always have to be right.”

“And you always turn everything into an ordeal,” I said.

We got into the shower together, still grousing at each other, until he put a stop to it by grabbing me and saying, “It's so good to feel secure enough to bicker, even if we're only pretending.”

“Who's pretending?” I asked, but ruined the effect by laughing.

“I love you,” he said over and over, between kisses. “I'll go anywhere with you.”

Later, when I gave the cab driver the address, Daniel's jaw dropped, and I reminded him, “You said anywhere.”

“I don't have a problem with it,” he said, sitting back and turning away so I couldn't see him smile.

Martin had on his best hostess face when he opened the door to us. “Isn't this a surprise?” he trilled.

“Please,” Daniel said. “After the last few months, I know a setup when I see one.”

Martin pushed us to his sofa, fluttering around and offering us drinks before he finally sat across from us, waiting expectantly.

“My cue,” I said. “Martin, according to Daniel, you're like the Dr. Ruth of our relationship.”

“Zat is correct,” he said, channeling the diminutive German therapist. “Most problems can be traced back to sex. In fact, perhaps if you show me your penis—”

“I want to apologize for the anger I directed at you about the town house,” I said, refusing to laugh at him. “And for shutting you in the closet at the bachelor party.”

“Again, perhaps if you vere to vip out your penis, all vud be forgiven.”

I doggedly went on, “You didn't deserve to be treated that way, and I'm sorry.”

“Is that it?” Martin asked.

“You wouldn't say that if you saw my penis,” I said. “Did I do something else to you?”

“You had your way with one of my former suitors, then hooked him up with your houseboy. It's really cut down my social life.”

“Martin,” Daniel warned.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “I accept your apology.”

“I think you can do better than that,” Daniel said.

“I'm sorry for contributing to the
Robby and Rhonda
ordeal. I had no idea Robert was that diabolical. He used to be so nice before Daniel and Jeremy—”

It was my turn to say, “Martin.”

“I guess this whole reconciliation thing isn't going to be any fun for me,” he huffed. After a sigh, he added brightly, “Gretchen and Gwendy are upstairs at Blythe's. Should I call them?”

“I knew it was a setup,” Daniel said. He met my eyes and said, “Yes. It's okay.”

When they joined us, Gwendy was holding Emily, which gave Gretchen the chance to hug Daniel. I couldn't hear what she said to him, but when he let her go, he looked at his sister and used his Angus Remington voice to say, “Bring me the child.”

It broke the tension, and we all watched when Daniel sat down with Emily and checked her out.

“I think she has Blaine's coloring,” he said.

“Um, I think she's soiling her diaper,” Gretchen said. “Her face is red because she's—”

“I think we get the picture,” Martin said.

I grabbed a diaper and baby wipes from the hideous pastel bag and said, “You want to help me change her?”

When Daniel glanced up and saw all four of us waiting for his response, he said, “I'm afraid not to. Is this a test?”

“Come on,” I said, and he followed me into Martin's bedroom, watching as I efficiently handled the diaper change.

“You're so sure of yourself,” he said. “I'm scared of her.”

“Get over it,” I said, thrusting Emily at him so I could dispose of the diaper and clean my hands. “I love leaving this in Martin's wastebasket. I hope it takes him a while to figure out what the smell is.”

I joined him when he sat down on the bed with her. “I'm going to let myself believe she started with our third sperm donation,” he said. “If you know otherwise, don't tell me.”

“Actually, that's what I believe, too,” I said. “That was hot.”

“Plus it allows me to say that my sister is the mother of my baby.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“That my sister is the—”

“That she's your baby,” I interrupted.

“Of course she is. She was ours before she was Gretchen's. Or Gretchen and Gwendy's. Don't worry, Emily,” he said. “Your life won't be all flannel and Jeeps. With me, you get fashion advice and limos.”

“Oh, boy,” I said with dread. We sat shoulder to shoulder, staring down at our daughter, until I said, “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, boy,” Daniel mimicked me.

“It really bothered me when you told me how everybody blamed you for our breakup. I wanted to make things right with our family. Violet helped me put together a little surprise party. Upstairs at Blythe's. I doubt Gretchen and Gwendy will stay long, because of Emily, but it should be quite a gathering.”

“Sheila and Josh?”

“Yes, and Jake flew in with Adam and Jeremy. I also asked Gavin and Ethan to bring Nick. Frank is with Aunt Jen and Rowdy. Not necessarily in that order. Violet's there, and Martin helped her include some of your old friends from Club Chaos. Oh, and Faizah. It wouldn't be a party without Faizah.”

“What about Mr. T?” Daniel asked.

“You never know,” I said. “Everyone loves a party.”

“That's a drag queen. Everyone loves a drag queen.”

“You're right,” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

TIMOTHY JAMES BECK is the author of
It Had to Be You
and
He's The One
. He divides his time between California, Texas, and New York, where he's hard at work on his next novel. Visit his Web site at
www.timothyjamesbeck.com
.

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Copyright © 2004 by Timothy James Beck

 

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-0787-6

 

First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: December 2004