Mr. 365 (13 page)

I sigh. “Yes, I have.”

“As have I. It’s not like we’re sixteen.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re twisting this around.”

“I don’t think the past should hold us back. What matters is us now.”

There’s truth in what he’s said, and I give him a slight nod.

He points to the letters on the mantle. “It’s a great word…
i
nspire
. It fits you. It fits us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, because you’ve inspired me. Completely, from the bottom of my feet to the ends of my hair.”

I laugh. “The ends of your hair?”

He combs his fingers across his scalp. “Yeah, and I’ve got a lot of hair.” He smiles and when I smile back he scoots closer to me on the couch. I don’t move away so he scoots a little closer.

“Can I put my arm around you?”

“I’m not sure.” I chew on my bottom lip, silently cursing the thousands of invisible threads pulling my heart toward his.

“Please?” I think he’s trying not to sound like he’s begging.

“Maybe,” I whisper.

I scoot a little closer, and he slides his arm over my shoulder. I soften just the tiniest bit, realizing that having him close feels so right.

He tips his head down to my ear and whispers, “There’s no assembly line, Sophia. I’m not a ladies’ man. Can’t you tell I want to be
your
man?”

I press my face into his shoulder. “I’d like to believe that. This is just a tough subject for me. I’ve had my heart completely broken by a lothario.”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses the top of my head.

“And I jumped in too fast with you. I’m always drawn to creative men who are different, and you’re a stand-out for sure.”

He smiles. “Creative and
different,
huh? How bad can that be?”

“It’s great until they decide to get creative and different with someone else.”

“I’m not like that, Sophia. And if you want to slow things down until you’re sure of what I’m about, I’m okay with that. I’ll wait for you.”

“We were already waiting.” I point out.

“But I’ll wait even longer,” he adds.

“You will, huh?” I’m not ready to believe him yet.

He takes my hand. “As long as it takes.”

I’m silent as I think about the fragile, shimmering bubble of trust with a lover, all transparency and rainbow reflections until it suddenly pops. But in all fairness to Will, it’s not right to deny him any chance because of what happened with Paul during the shoot.

“Can I stay a while more and just hold you?” he asks. Maybe he can tell that my anti-Will stance is softening.

“Nothing else?” I know how easily he could seduce me.

“Nope. Not even if you twist my arm.” He teases.

I nod and curl into him, and gradually we each keep shifting until we’re stretched out and almost spooning on my long, wide couch. He wraps his arm around my waist, tying us together like a Christmas present.

“I feel so much better already,” he whispers in my ear.

I rub my hand over his arm lightly. “Me too. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“During the shoot today you mentioned your favorite Christmas present ever was a bike your parents got you.”

“I did.”

“You told me they didn’t celebrate Christmas. Did they celebrate that Christmas? Is that why the bike was such a special gift?”

Will sighs and pulls away just far enough to rub his hand roughly over his face.

“What?”

“I only told Paul half of that story… the good half. The second half isn’t nearly as nice.”

I take a hold of his arm and pull him close again. “I’d like to hear about it if you want to tell me.”

“I’ve never told anyone the entire story of what happened that night.”

I stroke his arm and wait.

He clears his throat. “It was the Christmas when I was nine, and I kept begging my parents to let us celebrate Christmas again. My persistence was making them crazy, so they let me go to my grandparents to get out of their way. On Christmas Eve, Grandpa Joe called me to the living room after dinner, and when I got there, the bike I’d wanted forever was parked right in front of the tree.”

“Aw, that’s so great.”

“I lost it for a while, yelling and jumping up and down. When I finally calmed down, I asked Grandpa why Santa came early. He smiled and gave me a card to read.”

“It was from your parents,” I say softly.

“Yeah. It said that even though they have a hard time showing it, they were proud of me and loved me. That card meant the world to me, Sophia. It meant more to me than the bike.”

“So, what’s the sad part? Were they supposed to show up too?”

“Not exactly, although it got me hoping they would and we were going to be okay again. Late that night I couldn’t sleep. Between Santa coming and getting that card from my parents, I was just too amped-up. I snuck out of my room, even though I wasn’t supposed to go downstairs, because I wanted to read the card again.”

“I’m getting a bad feeling.” I shiver in his arms.

He nods. “When I got to the living room, I heard Grandma and Grandpa talking in the kitchen, so I snuck up to the door to listen.”

“They didn’t know you were there?”

He shakes his head.

“What did you overhear?”

“Long story short, I learned that my parents had nothing to do with the bike or the card.”

My expression falls. “No. Why would they lie about it?”

“I guess my grandparents were so upset Mom and Dad had emotionally abandoned me, they felt this gift would give me some comfort. They had been worried that with the way things were, I would turn into a wild and angry kid.”

“Oh God, how awful.”

“I was so upset when I found out,” he says, his voice still heavy. “I’ve never been so disappointed in my life.”

I stay silent, but turn around so I’m facing him and take his hand.

“The worst part is when they heard me in the living room ripping up the card, they realized I’d overheard everything. They were devastated. I’m not sure they ever got over their guilt.”

I gently stroke his face to comfort him. “They meant well, but that was not a good idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. False hope is like a disease that eats away at you until you have no faith left.”

“And that was your best Christmas gift ever?” I ask, bewildered.

“Well, it was for about five hours. And if I hadn’t snuck downstairs, it probably still would be.”

“That’s incredibly sad. It’s pretty remarkable, considering your upbringing, that you turned out as well as you did,” I say softly.

“I’m still working on it. I guess you could say I’m a work in progress.”

This time he runs his fingertips down my cheek and over my lips. He watches me intently as he does and I really wish he would kiss me, but he doesn’t.

“So what was your favorite Christmas present ever?” he finally asks.

I think for a moment before I give him a warm smile. “It was a dollhouse, an intricately hand-crafted dollhouse. It was from Santa and my parents told me that it was especially made in his workshop.”

“How cute.” Will grins as he rests his hand on my hip.

“Years later I found out that Dad and Mom made it from a kit they put together late at night. It took them several weeks to finish it, working on it in the garage after we’d gone to bed. Being the third of four kids, I got a lot of hand-me-downs, not just clothes but toys too. So having something so unique and made just for me was extra special.”

“I envy your childhood.”

“I was lucky.” I roll over to my back and gaze at the mantle. I take his hand in mine and press it down high on my chest, above my heart. “You inspire me, Will. You took a devastating childhood and decided not to let it define your life. Instead you’ve created something extraordinary that’s positive and makes people happy.”

“I suppose, but you make it sound like I had a master plan, and it was completely altruistic. But it wasn’t, especially in the beginning. It started by me trying to gain back what I’d lost, or even more so, what I never had.”

“That’s understandable. But now it isn’t all about you, is it? I’d say not by a long shot.”

He nods. “Yeah, I have to admit you’re right.”

“So, with that established … what in the world inspires you about me?”

“You may guess that I’m inspired by your beauty, that you’re sexy and smart. Perhaps you think I admire how hard you work… that you’re good at what you do.”

“But?” I ask, tensing up. I can tell he’s going another direction and I hope it’s one I feel good about.

“You inspire me because you’re grateful for what you have, that you admit your flaws but still love yourself. You inspire me because you do want to be more than who you are now even though you’re already amazing.”

“I don’t want to be shallow in any way. I do want to be more,” I whisper, my breath catching as I remember our conversation from several days ago.

“And you will be. I know you will.”

“You truly think so?” I ask, sounding hopeful.

He nods. “Yes. And maybe I understand it because I feel the same.”

I turn and gaze at him. “And I believe you will be more too.”

He smiles. “My dreams are always tucked just inside the edges of my mind. Careers and all that are important, but one day I want to be a great dad and the kind of man a woman like you would be proud to be married to. I may not be there yet, but I want to be one day. When I am, then I’ll prove that I’m stronger than my fucked up childhood… that I have it in me to hang in there even when things get tough, that I can be what a real man should be.”

What a real man should be?
For a moment I forget how to breathe.

This time I’m the one stunned by the fireball of passion that explodes, showering me with thoughts of rolling on top of Will and kissing him until he can’t think straight. It takes every bit of restraint I can manage just to lay there like a living mannequin. He runs his fingertips down my neck and over my shoulder like a human navigation system. His wonderful wandering fingers head south and glide over my hip and down to circle my knee. My legs instinctively part as his hand heads northbound again, gliding up the edge of my inner thigh.

“You okay?” he whispers, leaning close.

I shake my head. “No, I’m not okay.”

“Join the club,” he says, pressing the evidence of his lack of composure against my hip. “I want to keep my promise, so I think I need to go.” He sits up, the frustration evident in his tight expression as he drags his fingers through his hair. “But rest assured, you have no idea how much I want to stay.”

I am speechless. Would it really be so bad if we messed around tonight? I shake my head, disappointed with my lack of composure. He’s doing this for me.

He scoots off the edge of the couch and sways as he stands, as if his legs are unsteady. “Thanks for this,” he says, gesturing to the couch.

I nod. “Thanks for coming by. I feel worlds better than I did before.”

“Me too.”

I get off the couch and step into his open arms.

He holds me tight. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bright and early.”

T
he next morning the equipment truck pulls up as scheduled. I hope Will has a better understanding of what to expect so he’s not so nervous. He steps just outside the open door to greet us.

Aaron bounds up to Will first, holding an extra large coffee from the local coffee house. He doesn’t even say hello as he gets right into work mode while the rest of us wait to get on the porch and in the house. “So, Will, we’re going to start in the family room. I want to get all those train shots nailed first. Will you be available to show us how the system works?”

Will yawns and nods. “I could use some of what you’re drinking.”

Aaron laughs. “It’s rocket fuel, man, I couldn’t function in the morning without it.”

Lindsey files up next and gives Will a big smile. She’s closely followed by Stu, Terry, and the rest of the team. I slip by third to last, and Will’s face lights up like I blasted his morning open, bringing the sunshine with me.

“Morning, Will,” I say, all Doris Day demure.

“Morning, Sophia,” he says, his expression smug like we belong to a secret club.

“Coffee?” I ask.

“Sorry, I haven’t started it yet. I’ve had other stuff on my mind.” He grins and raises his eyebrows.

I blush and look down. “Well, let me do it.” I turn and head down the hallway.

“By all means. My house is yours,” he says quietly as I pass.

Will waits a minute to head to the kitchen, and when he arrives, Paul, Lindsey and I are all in a powwow. He grabs a mug and approaches the coffeemaker.

“She’s getting here just after lunch?” Paul asks.

“Yeah, she couldn’t come this morning, she had some kind of early presentation. But I’ve gone over it with the guys, and we can make it work. It’s not a problem,” Lindsey says.

“What’s all this about?” Will interrupts.

“Hey, Will,” Paul says with a big smile. “Ready for another day of fun?”

For a moment I fear Will is going to punch Paul in the face, probably from yesterday’s stud portrayal. But just as quickly the expression fades.

“I wouldn’t call it fun, but I’m ready for whatever it’s going to be.”

“We were just talking about Helena. Remember, she’s the writer that’s coming today to ask you some questions on camera? George, our boss, decided that we should use her to tie the series of shows together.”

“It won’t take long.” Lindsey assures him.

“Okay, I guess,” Will responds.

We head to the family room to watch the guys set up. When they’re finally ready, Will fires up the trains and turns on the ice skating rink and miniature ski lift. What a delight it is to hear the little boy come out of every one of those gruff tech guys.

“I had a train set when I was a kid,” Stu says.

“I always wanted one,” Terry replies.

“I’d spend hours in the basement changing the layouts. Then to keep things interesting I was always setting my sister’s dolls on the track and crashing into them.”

“Nice,” says Aaron, laughing.

Stu turns to Will. “So you do all this shit, and you really don’t have any kids?”