The Family You Choose (21 page)

Michael raised an eyebrow. "And you told
her?"

"I had that covered on Saturday
actually."

"Right, I forgot to worry about that."

"What are you worried about?"

He shrugged. "I like Zainab, and she’s
Richard’s girlfriend. I’d like her to think you’re being
well-treated."

"Well, I didn’t get too specific, but I can
if you need me to."

"If you told her enough, I think she would
feel compelled to mention it to Richard, and then you’d have to
talk to him."

"Like I said, I’m not trying to avoid him.
I’m just trying to figure out what to say. As soon as you have a
good elevator speech, you let me know."

"You’re the one who needs the speech."

"Why? You already have yours?"

"It’s pretty simple. It has three words. And
I think I already told you."

"Creepy again," she said, forcing a smile. "I
think I’ll take that apple now."

He shrugged and got her an apple. He tossed
it into the air and caught it, smiling at her like he was thinking
of something. She made a face and snatched the apple away. "I don’t
think I should have to sing for my supper," she said before she bit
into it.

He watched her eat it, so she ate that much
more slowly. He took off his jacket and tie. She had trouble
swallowing.

He tossed the core as soon as she was done.
"Are you ready to sing now?" he asked quietly. He was six inches
away from her. Her lips tingled again. Why was her heart beating so
fast?

Then she grinned. "Do you have any
cereal?"

"Cereal? It’s dinner time."

"Sorry, not trying to offend your gourmand
sensibilities."

"That’s not what’s offending me."

"Is that a yes or no?"

He sighed and grabbed a box of cereal from
the cabinet. He opened the refrigerator, but she shook her head and
grabbed the box. "I don’t need milk, and I’m not going to need a
bowl."

"So you’re just going to eat it straight out
of the box? What are you, ten?"

"Did I say that?" She turned around, shaking
the box of cereal at him over her shoulder like he was a cat.

It took him a second, but then he grinned as
he unbuttoned his shirt and followed her.

At ten o’clock the bed was filled with
crumbs. He breathlessly stroked her shoulder. "So," he managed,
"you like ice cream, right? Because I’m thinking that could be
pretty fun."

"I don’t know. I think that can get pretty
messy." She held up a scolding finger. "And if you don’t give me a
key, don’t think I’m going to be here tomorrow when you get
back."

He held himself up on his hand. "If I give
you a key, do you promise to pick up the ice cream?"

"If you give me a key, I promise to pick up
hot fudge and whipped cream too."

"Deal." He traced the line of her bare hip.
"Just one thing though—I think we’ll need a shower after that."

"I don’t know," she said. "I think you’re
assuming that you won’t need one when you wake up."

"So we’ll take two."

"That’s not very green of you. I think we’ll
have to find another way to get clean."

She straddled him and he put his hands on her
sides. "And what were you thinking?"

"Hmm...how do cats do it?"

Grinning, he rolled her onto her back. "I see
your point. But you know, I think we could use a little
environmentally friendly clean up right now."

She laughed as he kissed her neck. She knew
how this would sound to her friends, but...she couldn’t stop this,
and she didn’t want to.

~~~

In the morning, after their shower, Michael
gave Miranda two keys to the door. "You’ll be okay if you
leave?"

"Shockingly, I have managed to walk through
the streets of this extremely safe neighborhood for years without
ever having anything happen to me. And if all else fails, I can
scream pretty loudly."

"And you’ll scream if-"

"Yes."

He smiled. "And you’ll come back?"

"Yes."

Emily was still so nauseous she could barely
keep water down, but she could finally keep it down. On Tuesday,
Mitch felt okay leaving her at home by herself. By Wednesday, she
insisted on going to work. Mitch objected, but Emily was strong
enough to shoot him down.

"Meet me for lunch?" he said when they got to
Professor Hazlett’s building.

She made a face. "Is that a joke?"

"Meet me at lunch, then," he said.

"Okay," she nodded. "I’ll let you buy me a
soda."

She let him kiss her forehead—she didn’t want
anything touching her lips—and then went into the building. She
knocked on Professor Hazlett’s door. "Come in!"

As soon as she saw Emily, Joanna Hazlett’s
face dropped. "Oh my God, you’re pregnant!"

"Uh..."

"Oh, don’t give me that!" Joanna said. "I
thought something was off when your husband called about a sudden
illness, but I assumed it was a little newly wedded bliss. Why
didn’t you say something?"

Emily smiled for the first time in a week.
"Joanna, how do you...?"

Professor Hazlett gave her a hug. "Let’s just
say I’ve seen this before." She squeezed her. "But dear, you look
awful. What are you doing here today?"

"I need the money, and frankly, I’m not going
to get any better lying in my bed at home, so here you have
me."

"Well, alright," Joanna said reluctantly,
"but you are out of here as of five o’clock, do you understand? If
I hear that you and that adorable husband of yours are burning the
midnight oil at the library again, you’re fired."

Emily laughed weakly. "Well, if you put it
that way, I guess I’d better get started."

Emily noticed the sad look in Professor
Hazlett’s eyes, but she assumed it was pity.

~~~

Emily was sitting in her little study room,
just getting into the groove of reading, when Zainab called. "Oh,
Em. Thank God!"

"No, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry
I didn’t call you earlier."

"Don’t worry about it. Happy to help. So,
you’re feeling better?"

"If by better you mean not throwing up every
fifteen minutes, then yes, I am feeling better. If by better you
mean able to eat, then no, I am not."

"I’m sorry. But try to make sure you can at
least keep some fluids in you, okay? Sometimes you hear about nasty
things like kidney or bladder infections when women have severe
hyperemesis gravidarum."

"Severe what?"

"That’s what they call morning sickness."

"Oh good, because the technical name makes it
sound much more important, like I don’t just have to suck it up.
God, I wish Dr. Crusher could just put me in stasis right now."

Zainab laughed. "Glad you still have your
sense of humor, such as it is. So is everything else alright?"

"I'm okay, but I need to give Miranda a call
to apologize for not showing up."

Zainab was silent for a moment. "Actually,
she had a couple of other things to worry about this weekend."

"What’s wrong?"

"Miranda got a really nasty surprise on
Friday night about her mother." Emily heard her inhale.
"Apparently, Miranda’s mom was involved with Alex."

"Eww!"

"Save your strength. She was also involved
with Stephen Abbot."

Emily blinked. "Stephen Abbot? Wasn’t
that—Eww! Eww! How the Hell did she wind up with Alex?"

"Stephen was in the car with Miranda’s
mother. I’m not sure when the transition was, but I think that’s
part of what kicked it off."

"Oh, my God. Poor Miranda! Tell me she
stabbed Alex through the heart."

"Yeah. Yeah I guess you could say that."

"Where is she now? I want to make sure she’s
okay."

"She’s holed up in my apartment now," Zainab
said quickly. "But I don’t think she wants any company just yet.
She’s still kind of bouncing off the walls. And she lost her cell
phone, so don’t call just yet."

"Oh sure, sure. But tell her to give me a
call, okay?"

Miranda, true to her word, picked up some ice
cream and sundae toppings. Before she went back to Michael’s she
stopped into the library to pick up some books and movies. She was
willing—even happy—to stay in Michael’s house for most of the day,
but she was going to go crazy if the internet and CNN were her only
dependable companions.

That night Michael got home at seven. Miranda
kneeled on the couch and smiled. "So, how was your day?"

"I—I have no idea." Before she could say
anything, he kissed her. She took off his jacket and as he kissed
her again, she had a feeling that they weren’t going to eat any ice
cream that night. Fair enough, since she was pretty sure they
weren’t going to leave the couch either.

It was eleven o’clock before they spoke
again. He buried his face in her chest and sighed. She rubbed her
feet into his legs. He touched her leg. "You’re cold."

"Hmm," she said, sleepily. "Blanket would be
good."

"I don’t keep you warm enough?"

"Don’t take it personally. I don’t think a
polar bear could keep me warm enough here."

"You have a point." He stood up and led her
to the bedroom, then tucked her in. He looked around. "What
happened to the crumbs?"

"Did you know that some really smart guy
invented something called a vacuum cleaner in the last hundred
years? Man, I’m so happy people like that blazed the trail for
Richard."

"You vacuumed?"

"I even changed the sheets."

"Why?"

"Because it was either that or go back to
Zainab’s and you led me on with all this talk about ice cream."

"Well, as long as that’s all it was. I hope I
don’t have to tip you now."

"Would you like another concussion?"

~~~

Michael woke up at six on Thursday and stared
at Miranda in the dark. He should get up, get in the shower and
leave the house as soon as he could. But instead there he was,
kissing her, touching her to wake her up. She smiled sleepily, and
started to return the kisses.

When they were done, he told her to go back
to sleep. He showered by himself, then got dressed quickly and left
the house.

It was just a short walk to work, but his
legs felt like lead. He hated to leave her—he wanted to go back. He
had to get to work. He couldn’t go back. He shouldn’t go back. He
had to stop this; he didn’t know what this was.

He got coffee from the Starbucks he usually
went to most mornings but that he’d abandoned that week. He usually
flirted with the cashier, but today he just left her a good tip and
went on his way.

Work was busy so it was hard to think about
anything else. He usually ate at his desk or on his way to
meetings. But there were moments, always, when he had time for his
own thoughts. And she was always there; just as she’d always been,
but now she was so close, and she was waiting. For him.

He picked up the phone and looked at it, then
dialed his own number. Miranda answered after three rings. "You
shouldn’t have answered," he said harshly.

"You have caller ID," she said softly. "And I
figured it must have been important if you were breaking radio
silence."

He smiled despite himself. "It wasn’t."

"Sorry, my psychic mood ring doesn’t work
over the phone."

"I just wanted to see you how you were," he
said, closing his eyes. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." He could see her smile
through the phone. "But don’t take it personally. If I have to
watch any more of this Primary crap, I might be bored enough to
give Lucy a call."

He closed his eyes when he got off the phone
with her. It had never been like this with anyone before, and he
didn’t know how to do this.

The week after their first encounter in the
hotel, Alex arrived at the hotel room at eight-fifty. He took off
his tie and jacket and sat in the chair facing the door. He
imagined how he’d look when she opened it. He wanted her to know
that when he wanted something, he got it.

By nine-thirty, he was slouching in his
chair, staring at the door resentfully. It wouldn’t be the first
time he hadn’t gotten what he wanted, and deprivation seemed to
confirm that it was something he deserved.

He had just started putting on his tie when
there was a knock at the door. He blinked, and tried not to
smile.

She stood in the door and looked him up and
down. She was in a beige wool skirt and a sleeveless sweater. She
saw the tie he was holding in his hand. "Going somewhere?" she
said, leaning in the doorway.

"That all depends on you."

"I don’t think I can do much of anything
until you’ve invited me in."

"I thought I did that last week."

"Maybe you did, but I’d like to hear it
again."

"Ms. Hamilton, will you please come in?"

She smiled. Her smile was different now. He
still liked it. "I think I like it better when you say my name, my
real name."

"Tatiana, will you please come in? Pretty,
pretty please?"

She got off the door frame. "Nothing would
please me more, Alex," she said as he walked in. She threw him her
coat, and then he closed the door.

At eleven, Alex threw his head back on the
pillow, breathless. "You shouldn’t have been so late," he said as
soon as he could manage.

"Traffic," she said, rolling onto his arm,
smiling.

"Are you sure?" he said.

"Is there another excuse you’d prefer?"

"I don’t want an excuse," he said, rolling
onto her. "I just want you here when I want you here."

"Oh, really?" She laughed. "And do I get to
snap my fingers whenever I want, too?"

"I think you know what the answer to that
is."

She ran her hands over his chest and smiled.
He kissed her shoulder.

"I don’t want to share you anymore," Alex
said. "The idea of you in Stephen’s bed...it’s making me
crazy."