Nothing Personal (27 page)

“No way,” she said again. “You can fool some of the people all of the time,
or so I hear, but I have a feeling you can’t fool your dad
any
of the time. And you can’t fool me either. And besides,” she went on hastily as he was opening his mouth to say something, although he had no earthly clue what, “my grandma wants me here. But I’ll see you tomorrow at church, OK? And then lunch.”

And he had to be content with that.

“
She coming over tonight?” his mom asked, frying hamburger now, when he’d stepped back into the kitchen again.

“No,” he said, setting his phone down on the counter and picking up the big knife from the cutting board,
absently whacking the top off a green pepper. “She’s staying there.”

His mother went back to her
frying for a minute.

“She thinks
—” he said, then broke off.

She looked at him inquiringly. He
rocked the knife back and forth, made a couple slices in the wood. “She doesn’t think I’m serious about her.”

“Hmm,” she said. “You know, if you’re going to stand there and wreck my knife, why don’t you
wash your hands and cut up those vegetables for me?”

“Uh . . . OK. How?”

“Onion first. Dice it. Little pieces,” she explained. “And then the rest. For the carrots, think quarter-inch coins. Everything else, half-inch cubes.”

He got through the
onion and watched her add it to her hamburger meat, then set to work on the rest. His decapitated pepper was a bit of struggle, but he figured it out eventually.

“I
don’t know how she feels,” he said when he’d started on the carrots. “I know how
I
feel, but I can’t tell what she wants.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“Of course we are.” He frowned at Susie’s back. “But it’s not enough just to have a good time. Not anymore.”

“Y
ou’re afraid she doesn’t want a commitment.” She’d turned a little now, and he could see the smile.

“Are you
laughing
at me?” he demanded with a flash of anger the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since she’d grounded him for sneaking out of his bedroom window, junior year. “It isn’t funny.”

“Well, it is, a little,” his mother said calmly. “Don’t you imagine
this is the conversation a whole lot of women have had with their mothers about you over the years?”

“It can’t have felt this bad
.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll bet it felt exactly this bad, at least for some of them.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anybody.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Susie
turned from her work, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a hug. She fit right under his chin, and he kissed the top of her head, noticed that she was going gray, and had a flash of how Desiree must feel, a sudden rush of tenderness combined with the certain knowledge that one day, he was going to lose his mother. And realized in that moment that things had shifted forever. That he was an adult, and that at some point in the not-too-distant future, he would be a parent himself. That it was all on him now, and that he wanted it that way.

“I know it’s
hard,” his mother told him, stepping back again and turning to her soup, opening a carton and pouring in beef broth. “But if it’s meant to be, it’ll work out. You just keep on being patient, and keep on loving her. A good man who’s going to be there for you through thick and thin isn’t that easy to come by. You’re a good man, and Desiree’s a very intelligent young woman, and if you hang in there, she’s going to see that. But she’s got some pretty deep scars. Some old wounds. I don’t think trust comes easily for her.”

“
I know that’s why.” He was chopping red potatoes now, still grappling with the wave of emotion that had swept over him. “But I can make it better for her. I can make it right.”

“Well,
” she said, “if that’s how you feel, you just go on and love her, and if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

“You sound like Gabe
.”

She laughed
at that. “Well, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. It worked out pretty well for him, didn’t it?” She gave him a playful nudge, smiled at him with the happy optimism he’d inherited from her.

“And now that you’ve mangled my vegetables,” she said, taking
his cutting board and beginning to scrape the contents into her soup pot, “go take a shower. Because, phew. You stink.”

He glanced
back at her as he left the room, and saw the smile still on her face. He could swear that she was
singing.

He
pulled the sweat-soaked T-shirt over his head, tossed it onto the floor of his room as he passed it on his way to the bathroom, and wondered why everybody in the world thought that his suddenly, terrifyingly vulnerable heart was funny. Even his own mother.

“So to recap, here’s how I’ve spent my weekend,” he said on the following evening. They were nearing the end of their long drive, the towers and cables of the Golden Gate Bridge glowing soft red against the black of the Bay beyond, flashing past the windows of the big Mercedes. “I’ve taken four old ladies to Olive Garden. I’ve listened to a lecture from a cranky old man about how I’m not good enough for you.”

“
Oh, yeah,” he said at her look of surprise, “didn’t I tell you about that one? Yeah, that was another fun time. But that wasn’t all. I’ve gone to church. I’ve eaten more Jell-O salad. I’ve spent two nights in a single bed, aching to have a woman in there with me like I haven’t done since my crush on Elke Christensen. The head cheerleader,” he explained. “Elke was
hot.”

“You couldn’t get the head cheerleader?” she asked
, and she was laughing. “I’m disappointed. My last illusion shattered.”

“I was fifteen
. Hadn’t grown into my full potential yet.”

“Well, that’s a pretty good list,” she admitted. “I’d say you’ve been amazingly restrained and virtuous.”

“Yeah, I’d say so too. So,” he asked as he took the turn onto Lombard, “don’t you think, after all that, I deserve some kinky sex?”

He shot another look across at her, and she was still smiling.
“Yes, I think you do,” she said, “and I think I do too. I was at Olive Garden too, remember.”

“You were
. But at least you got drunk.”

“Hey. Do you want kinky sex or not?”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her. “I want it.”

And he got it. But
not entirely the way he’d planned, though they got to the curtains, all right. He used them on her, and it was even better than he’d hoped. And then she used them on him, and that was pretty good too.

“Guess I’ve had kinky sex now,” she sighed, knowing that her foolish smile was right out there for him to see.

“Guess you have
.” And he was looking just about as happy and satisfied as she felt, so it didn’t matter.

“
Not quite the same as doing you on the conference table,” she acknowledged, “but I gave it my best shot. And I think you enjoyed it, too.”

She stayed wher
e she was, kneeling astride him, just because it felt good up here. Bent down to give him a long kiss, felt his hands coming up to hold her waist, slide over her bare back, and loved it.

“Aw.” He shrugged
, grinned up at her. “I can take it or leave it.”

“Oh, yeah?” She moved to swing her leg over him, but he grabbed her thigh, held on.

“Changed my mind,” he said. “I can only take it. Come on down here and kiss me again.”

“So who needs it, huh?” she asked against his mouth.

He sighed. “Yeah. That’d be me. Aw, hell, Desiree. Who am I kidding? Every single person I’ve talked to this weekend has figured it out, so I might as well say it. I’m crazy in love with you.”

She sat back fast, and this time she
did
swing her leg over him, sat back on her knees beside him, busied herself smoothing out her hair. “Oh.” She couldn’t think of what else to say. “You are?”

“I am
,” and he was smiling at her now. “No doubt about it. I’m officially crazy.”

“You . . .” She leaned down, grabbed her underwear from the floor by the bed where she’d dropped it. “Wow. You
sure know how to make a woman feel good.”

Just like that, the smile was gone
. “You think I’m just talking? This is a big deal for me. I’ve never said that before.”

Claudine’s words were right there.
“I don’t think the words ‘I love you’ have ever crossed those luscious lips, not unless he was talking to his mother.”
But she remembered what they’d been talking about when Claudine had said it, too.

“And you’ve got me sweating now,” he pointed out. “Waiting to hear you say it back.”

“I’m . . .” She hesitated, busied herself pulling on her underwear, felt a little better when she had it on. “I’m pretty sure I feel . . . that way.”

“
Pretty
sure?” He pushed himself up to sit against the pillows. “That
way?”

She felt the panic closing in,
shoved it back, did her best to be honest. “I love being with you. I miss you, the nights you’re not here. And, OK, I’ll say it. I’m crazy about you.”

And even
that was almost too much. She got up and found an undershirt in the dresser drawer, put it on. Didn’t look at him, but could feel his eyes on her.

When she turned around again,
he studied her face and sighed. “Well, this is awkward,” he said. “Not sure what to do here.”

“What do you usually do
when a woman says that to you?” she asked. “What happens next?”

“Ouch
.” She could see the wince. “Yeah. Well. Sometimes they leave, sometimes they stick around, I suppose thinking that I’ll say it back eventually. Which I never have, which I guess is my answer right there.” He was pulling on his own underwear now, his T-shirt too.

“Alec.” He really looked hurt, and she couldn’t stand that, so she sat beside him on the bed. “I’m just . . . I can’t give my heart away like that. If I didn’t know you . . .” She stoppe
d, looked down at the curve of her thigh, ran her hand through her curls, messing them up again. “I mean, if I didn’t know
about
you. If I hadn’t heard so much about you, and from so many people. If I hadn’t seen you in action on the show, the way you were with Chelsea. Talking to your brother, too, all the things you said.”

“That was then,” he said, “and t
his is now. I’m different. That’s all I can tell you. I don’t know if it
was
the show, or if it was seeing Gabe change. When you’re a twin . . . you do what your twin does. You feel what he feels, you change at the same time. It’s a hard thing to explain, but it’s real. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it, and it was just you. The one right woman, coming into my life at exactly the right time, when I could recognize her, when I was ready for her. I don’t know why it happened. All I know is, it’s here, and it’s real.”

“I want to believe that,” she said. “And I almost do. Because what
I’ve seen, what you’ve been with me, it’s . . . I don’t know how
not
to believe that. Maybe I just need a little more time to be sure you mean it, before I can . . . let myself go.”

She looked up at him
, saw him looking back, his gaze steady on her, and admitted it. “I’m scared to say it. I’m scared to feel it. I’m scared you’ll change your mind, and if I let myself love you . . . I don’t know how I’d get over that. Because have you ever lived with anybody? Have you ever even had a serious relationship with a woman, one that lasted a . . . a year?”

“No. Have you, with a man?”

“No. No, I haven’t.”

“Then we’re in the same place,” he insisted. “
New at this. Born-again virgins, trying it out together, seeing where we get.”

She had to smile. “Born-again virgins? Is that what we are?”

“Yes.” He was smiling back at her, and the relief, or some other emotion she didn’t dare name . . . whatever it was, it was filling her now, rich, and strong, and . . . wonderful.

“Born-again
virgins,” he said again, “trying something brand-new. Think you could do that with me?”

S
he looked at him, all the strength and all the sweetness of him right there to read in his face, and made her decision.

“Yes. I think I could.”
She reached a hand out for him, felt his palm closing around hers, his fingers threading through her own. “Born-again virgins. I could do that. I could try.”

“And th
at’s it,” Alec sighed nearly four weeks later, pushing away from his desk with both hands. “We’re there.” He looked at Joe, shoving back himself with his own satisfied smile, and laughed out loud. “And it’s good.”

“It is.” Joe
reached two massive arms over the shaved dome of his scalp, interlaced his fingers, and stretched. “We’ll look at it again next week, start picking holes in it. But, yeah. It’s damn good. What time is it?”

“Uh . . .” Alec looked at his monitor. “After eleven.”
The outer office long since emptied on this Friday night, even Rae having left hours ago.

“So, hey. We made it before midnight,” Joe said. “I’m going home, working out, and crashing. And I’m not planning to drink another cup of coffee all weekend, or look at a single screen. Turn my phone off, stick the laptop in the desk, go climb a mountain or something. You?”

Alec had stood, was walking around the office now. He didn’t feel tired, he felt energized, though he knew it wouldn’t last. “Taking off too. Going someplace,” he decided. “For sure.”

Joe shut down, put his laptop away, swept the empty Red Bull cans and the pizza box into the wastebasket. “Going alone?”

“Haven’t decided,” Alec lied. He wished he could tell Joe, that he could trust him. But it wasn’t only his secret to keep.

And the next day, he was at Point Reyes. Taking Rae away for the weekend, walking barefoot on the beach holding her hand, just as he’d promised her. Everything in his life coming together, better than he could have hoped. And the open space, the salt in the air, the grainy firmness of the sand under his feet, the resonant thunder of waves hitting shoreline, the quiet, soul-deep pleasure of having her beside him for all of it—it was all carrying him up, so buoyant he could have floated away.

But in the afternoon, he got jumpy again. At first he’d thought it was just the unaccustomed idleness, being at loose ends after working flat-out for so long to finish the beta.
Finally, though, obeying an instinct he couldn’t explain, he went back to the inn with Rae, got the laptop he hadn’t, after all, been able to leave behind, and drove to a place where he could change the folder’s password. Thought about calling Joe and telling him he’d done it, but then, Joe had said he wouldn’t even have his phone with him, let alone be online.

He’
d tell him Monday. Monday was soon enough.

The planner did the work at his kitchen table, as always. Transcribed the last careful character from the piece of paper lying next to him and waited, breath held, for the microsecond it took for the screen to appear. And then the smile bloomed. It stayed on his face as he located the folder containing the beta version of the code, clicked on it, and encountered the password screen.

He typed
in the password. And watched the red-bordered box appear, with an additional note.

Password incorrect

Too fast. Too eager. He retyped, more carefully this time.

Password incorrect

He checked his caps lock. Off. Risked a third try.

Access denied due to multiple incorrect
attempts. Please contact your system administrator.

He swore
again. Sat and thought it through. And then went with Plan B.

Alec took Rae out for a long, late dinner. They ate crab cake salad and blackened wild king salmon and tiny baby vegetables, and drank a whole bottle of chilled Chardonnay. Held hands across the white tablecloth and, afterwards, shared a delicate crème brûlée and drank snifters of Grand Marnier, just because it seemed like a good idea. Left the restaurant at last, its final customers, and walked the few blocks to the inn in no hurry at all, both a little drunk, and very happy. Tilted their heads back to see the stars overhead, clear and bright in the night sky here at the edge of the world, got a little dizzy, and laughed.

Back at the inn, they filled the huge soaking tub, lit all the candles, poured in the bath salts, and lay
together in the warm, aromatic water. Slow kisses, languid touches, murmurs and sighs. Until the water cooled and they climbed out, toweled each other dry with huge, fluffy white bath sheets, pulled the quilt back on the big bed, and made long, slow, languorous love, quiet, and peaceful, and beautiful. And knew that they were each with the person they most wanted to be with, and that they had all the time in the world.