ThisTimeNextDoor (24 page)

“She’s at the hospital right now,” Rose added when he didn’t say anything.

“Poor Blair. I—we’re next door if she needs anything. My mother’s in touch.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry about Sunday, by the way. I don’t know what happened. Maybe I was in the bathroom and she didn’t want to embarrass me.”

Trixie hadn’t shown herself to be discreet or sensitive thus far, Rose thought. But out loud she said, “I should be at the hospital with Blair. I keep thinking I should be there.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “John’s with her, right?”

“He better be.”

“She knows your number if she needs you.” He held up his phone and looked at her expectantly, finger poised over the screen. “Unlike me.”

She managed a smile. “So you can call me and then run away?”

“So I can call you when my boss is about to find me naked in his house and thus I’m speeding away from it as quickly as possible.”

“I’m allowed to have guests,” she said.

“Relationships between coworkers are always bad.”

“I didn’t get that impression from Sylly.”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. But he seems like a fun, good-natured guy. I doubt he’s going to get all pearl-clutchy about people having sex with each other.”

“Regular people, no problem. WellyNelly people, yes.”

“Come on.”

“Really.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve been here a month and I already know about three office romances.” She counted on her fingers. “Von, two,
tree
office romances. They aren’t even sneaking around, either.”

“Well, they should.”

She didn’t buy it. “Since when are you so uptight about the rules?”

“I’m very uptight. Look at me.” He held out his hands. “Geek, remember?”

“Not about authority. For instance, you never leave your door open. We get an email every week about that.”

“An exception.”

“That proves the rule,” she said.

He looked at the door again. Stepping close to her, he lowered his voice. “I never would’ve run out like that if it weren’t for Sylly. When you mentioned he was coming, I ran out of that house like a bat out of hell.”

She looked into his eyes, not appreciating his analogy. “At least you put the pillows back together.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you manage that, by the way?”

“Strong visual memory,” he said. “So… Rose…” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes?”

“Have you forgiven me about taking off on Sunday? I swear, leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

He had such a sweet face. Gentle, soulful eyes. “There was a lot happening that day.” She didn’t want to be a pushover, but she didn’t want to be unreasonable either. “Couldn’t you have hacked my phone number from the WellyNelly database?”

“You only gave them the old house number. I checked.”

She smiled. “Okay, okay.” She went over to the desk and wrote down her cell number.

As she handed him the paper, he wrapped his hand around her fingers, gazed into her eyes. “Without my vampire suit, I’m not sure how to do this.”

“Dial?” She stepped closer, lowered her voice. “It’s all about finding the right buttons.”

His jaw tightened. “I want to see you again.”
 

“You do?”

“I do. How about tonight?”

Her skin tingled at the idea. She closed his eyes, let herself enjoy the way he was stroking the tender skin between her knuckles. Heat pooled between her thighs.

But then she remembered. Opening her eyes, she squeezed his hand and stepped back. “I’d like that, but we’ll have to wait a few days. Blair, you know? I want to be there.”

“Right. Of course.”

“They might not want me around, but if she calls, I don’t want to be, you know—”

“I understand.” He stuck his hands in his pockets again. “Tomorrow?”

“That still might be too soon. I just don’t know how it’ll be for her. She might still be—”

“Sure, of course. I’m being selfish.”

“It’s sweet.”

“It is?” He brightened.

“Yeah. Nice to be wanted, you know.”

He shot her a smoldering look. “Oh, you are that.”

She felt herself flush all over. Unbalanced, she couldn’t think of a snappy reply.

“Will you—” He looked down at the floor, then up at her. “If you want to see me, later, when you come to the house to see Blair, I’ll be there. Just knock on the door.”

“All right.”

“Or wave. Sigh loudly. Glance in my direction. I’ll be there, ready and waiting.”

She had to smile. “Okay.”

“And willing,” he said, not smiling back.

God, she wanted him. Her mouth was dry. “Maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow,” she offered.

“Here?”

“I thought we’d go out for a burrito or something,” she said. “The taqueria down the street is popular. We could walk there.”

“Let’s wait until we can have dinner. Out of town, far away from this place. That would be better.”

Better?

“When you feel okay about leaving Blair.”

Out of town?

“All right. I’ll let you know. Maybe this weekend.”

“Right.” He strode away to the door and pulled it open. “I hope Blair is all right. My mom really wants to do something to help. I’ve got her tied to her piano with duct tape, figuring they need some time without a crazy busybody neighbor lady butting her nose in.”

“Good old duct tape.”

His eyes met hers. “Yeah. Though she’ll probably make them another casserole.”

Too many emotions were spinning around inside her to deal with the way her chest squeezed when he looked at her like that. “Food is good.” With a smile and a wave, she walked away, dwelling over how he hadn’t wanted to have lunch together. Was she just being too sensitive because of what had happened with John?

Probably. One of the pitfalls of starting one relationship when you hadn’t recovered from another.

If it was a relationship.

Too much to worry about right now. She went back to her desk to work and wait for news about her friend.

And to cool the hell off.

* * *

“I’m fine,” Blair said.

It was early Saturday afternoon, one week after losing the baby. Blair had been in the hospital for almost two days but insisted she was fine: John took off work and was with her every second. They were closer than ever. She was fine, she said, over and over.

Rose wasn’t surprised at all when Blair had called Friday afternoon, weeping. Rose’s tentative plans with Mark to catch a movie—and each other afterwards—were put on hold. She went over to the house and watched reality TV with Blair until one in the morning. If John minded her being there, he didn’t let on, just made an extra batch of popcorn and kept quiet.

Rose did glance at the house next door on her way home, and again when she drove up that morning, but she didn’t see Mark.

After sitting with Rose over a lunch she didn’t eat, Blair was pouring potting soil into a recycled yogurt container at the kitchen sink. Her hair was pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail, her face pale but carefully made up with concealer, eyeliner, lipstick.

Rose didn’t believe her for a second. “You don’t have to be fine, you know.”

“We named her Catherine,” Blair said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “After my grandmother. Even though she was barely three months—” Her voice caught.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Rose said, feeling her own throat tighten.

“It was just one of those things, the doctor said. They don’t know why she—she didn’t—” Blair cleared her throat. “A huge percentage of pregnancies end in miscarriage. You just don’t know about it because you don’t even know you’re pregnant.”

But you did.
“I’ve heard that.” Rose put her hand on her back and stroked gently.

“So, you don’t have to keep coming over here to make sure I’m all right,” Blair said. “I’m totally fine.” She patted the soil into the container, checked the drain holes she’d punched at the bottom, set it on a saucer to catch the water.

“Okay.”

Blair turned to her. “You don’t believe me.”

“Sorry. No.”

“What can I say to make you believe me?”

Rose looked at the pot. “What are you growing?”

“What?”

“In the pot.”

Frowning, Blair looked down. “I don’t know yet.” Her lip quivered. She poked her finger into the soil.

Rose put an arm around her. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve been stuck in this house long enough,” she said. “We can drive down to College for coffee. Maybe stop into the bakery for that sourdough you love.”

“I should be here when John gets back from the gym.”

“Why?”

Blair frowned. “I just should.”

“We’ll leave a note.”

Dropping her hands to her sides, potting soil dripping down onto the floor, Blair stared off into the foggy distance out the window. “I wonder if he’ll leave me a note.”

“When?”

“When
he
leaves.”

Rose felt so powerless. “You don’t know yet what’s going to happen.”

Blair turned to her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not just saying, ‘Of course he’ll stay,’ when you don’t know either.”

“This isn’t all up to him, you know.”

Blair turned on the faucet to wash her hands. Dark water with flecks of white pooled around the drain. “He’s kind of a key player.”

Rose watched her bring the soap to a lather. “Have you talked at all?”

“He says he loves me.”

“That’s good.” Rose paused. “Right?”

“What else can he say?”

Nudging her in the arm, Rose, said, “I can imagine a lot worse.” She turned off the water, handed Blair a towel. “‘Yo bitch, get the hell out,’ for instance.”

Blair smiled. “That might be a relief.”

“You’re such an Eeyore. My goodness.”

“His mother called this morning. She practically threatened to disinherit him if we break up.”

“Really?” Rose shook her head. “She’s one scary lady. I might still be with John if she’d been gunning for it. She’s relentless.”

“You’d—what do you
 
mean?”

“Oh, Blair, I’m just kidding.”

“Do you wish you were still with John?”

“Of course not.” Rose hung the damp dish towel on the refrigerator handle, smiling because, for the first time, she knew it was absolutely true. Nothing like a long night of hot sex with somebody else to reset yourself.

“His mother says you do. She thinks I should refuse to let you in the house.” Blair said this with a hint of a smile. “I told her to fuck off.”

Rose laughed. “Really?”

She nodded. “A few days ago.”

“I wish I’d been here.”

“John was. He made her leave. She calls, but hasn’t been back in person since.”

“That’s great.”

“John says the best thing about it is we can blame it on the drugs,” Blair said. “I was pretty loaded with painkillers.”

Rose smiled. “I think maybe I’ve been too hard on him. He’s not a bad guy.” Then she saw the wrinkle form between Blair’s eyebrows, and she wished she hadn’t said anything. “Not that I want him for myself, because I don’t.”

Blair nodded, but looked unconvinced.

Because of the miscarriage, Rose hadn’t told her about her night with Mark. Not knowing where that fling was headed, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it now, but she couldn’t stand the idea of Blair—and John—thinking she was pining over him.

“I’ve moved on, actually,” Rose cleared her throat, smiling. “Get your shoes on and I’ll tell you about it.”

Blair’s eyes lit up with the first real happiness she’d shown all week. “It’s Mark, isn’t it? Oh, I knew it!”

Rose walked away, into the foyer, and slipped on her jacket, wrapped a jade-green angora scarf around her neck. For some reason Blair’s enthusiasm bothered her. Not just because she wasn’t sure if there was any future with Mark but because, perversely, she felt bad for him: the woman he really wanted was thrilled he’d found someone else.
 

Maybe she shouldn’t have told Blair anything.
 
“Please don’t read too much into it. It was just one night.”

Blair followed her, smiling, and wriggled her feet into her Crocs. “When?”

“Halloween.”

Face falling, she nodded. “Oh. When I was—”

“Yeah.” Rose sighed.

“I’m so glad I didn’t call you. I almost did.”

“No, you should have. You’re more important than… what I was doing.”

“I bet Mark is going to be very important.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “It would make things easier with John’s mother.”

“That’s not why I’m saying it. He’s sweet. You can help him out of his shell.” Blair looked around, grabbed a black trench coat she’d had since their freshman year at Cornell.

“I’m taking you shopping,” Rose said, wrinkling her nose at the faded, wrinkled garment. “That coat needs to be retired.”

Blair tightened the belt with a jerk. “When did you decide you were interested in him?”

“I’m still not sure I am.”

“Oh, poor guy. Don’t say that.” She opened the front door. “Let’s go to that café near the Chinese place. You can tell me all about it.”

“As if I ever tell you the really good parts.”

They stepped outside. Blair locked the door, took in a deep breath, still smiling. “I’m so happy for you,” she said. “And him. He seemed to relax around you.”

“And get nervous around
you
.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s you he actually likes.”

Just as they were walking to Rose’s car, John’s car pulled up on the side of the narrow road, his wheels crunching in the gravel shoulder.

Knowing Blair would want to talk to him, Rose bit back a sigh and stood next to her, waiting for her to change her mind.

“Still want to go out for coffee?” Rose asked.

Obviously unsure, Blair’s gazed followed John as he strode over to them. He was still in his workout clothes. “But I want to hear about Mark,” she said finally.

“What about Mark?” John asked, glancing at the house next door. He bent down to kiss Blair on the cheek.

Rose groaned inwardly. She considered lying, but though
she
was skilled in the arts of prevarication, Blair was not.