“You don’t feel well,” she says. “Sometimes a little nooky is just the thing to get your mind off the fact that life is throwing you a curveball. And besides,” she adds with a wink, “ifmyhusband looked like that, I wouldn’t keep my hands off him either.”
“I know,” I say with a snort. “It’s obscene.”Andannoying, I want to add, remembering the howling rage I’d felt when he’d touched Melody, how a part of me had wanted to tear her face off.Does weird things to your brain.
“But you know, it’s not just the looks. Those don’t matter much, in the grand scheme of things,” Deb continues. “What does matter is that he seems very attentive. Kind of pushy, if I’m honest.”
I don’t know what to say to that last part, so I settle for a nervous laugh and a bewildered, “Really?”
“You should have seen him. Badgering poor Dr. Liederman into writing you a work note and stalking all of us for more warm blankets.” When I wince, she pats my arm affectionately. “It’s a goodthing, you know. It’s hard to find someone who truly values you.” She turns off the pump that has delivered two liters of saline into my vein, then smiles at me. “All right, you’re all set. Now get dressed and get out of my ED before you all get up to anything else.”
I thank her, take my discharge papers, and prepare myself for what the day has left to offer. With my newfound energy, I’m able to change into my clothes in record time. When I push open the curtain, Julian is on the other side leaning against the nurse’s station, eyes closed and arms folded. His eyes open slowly, like he’s waking from sleep, before zeroing in on me.
I swallow against a dry throat.
“Fine,” I say. “You can drive me to the recital tonight. And I’ll stay in bed all day before.”
By the smug expression on his face, this is a battle that he knew he would win.
“Can I also walk Onix? Maybe even make you a little chicken noodle soup? Hand feed you grapes while you convalesce?” he ribs.
I nudge him in the side as I zip up my coat.
“Don’t push it.”
Sixteen
True to his promise, Julian spends the next several hours entirely at my service. We take a ride home to my apartment, and after making sure I am in bed and not on my laptop, he gets an oddly compliant Onix dressed for the cold and takes him for a walk. I sleep the rest of the day away, and Julian leaves me at peace, stocking my fridge with dinner before heading back to his apartment for a shower and change of clothes. When I wake up several hours later for the recital, I feel more refreshed than I have in weeks.
Julian drops me off at the front of Sophie’s school while he finds parking, and I wait for him at the entrance, clutching the bouquet we got for Sophie as young families trickle in past me. I watch him approach through the glass doors. He walks like a model, with a devil-may-care stride, one hand tucked into the pocket of crisp pleated trousers, the other held purposefully at his side like there might be a camera trained on him at any moment. It’s a quiet confidence that’s hard to master, attractive even at a distance.
This, I realize, is myboyfriend. Who could be anywhere on a Sunday night but is at a suburban middle school for a dance recital, all because he wants to take care of me. He meets my stare just as hepushes through the double doors, smirks, then with one finger, lifts my jaw closed.
The audacity of the move makes it drop again.
“You…what…” I start, my heart stammering with a confusing combination of mortification and arousal.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Happens all the time.” Before I can finish rolling my eyes, he leans in close, tugs at the waistband of my yoga pants, and adds, “Keep wearing these around me, and you’ll catch me doing worse.”
“Yeah?” I say, blinking away the bright bokeh lights that are dancing before my eyes.
“Yeah,” he confirms, like a pledge. His nose skims so close past my cheek that I feel the tiny hairs reaching for him, straining like leaves toward the sun. I think he’s going to kiss me again, even though we’re in a middle school atrium, surrounded by children in baggy cargo pants and leotards and parents rushing toward seats. Even after Deb’s warning, I think I’ll let him.
But instead Julian pulls away, and I feel his withdrawal like a gust of chill.
“You must be Winona,” he says abruptly.
He’s right. It is Winny. She’s dressed impeccably in tailored boot-cut jeans and a stylish beige blazer, and her makeup is just a touch too heavy-handed for a children’s dance recital. It’s clear that she’s come for battle, and that looking fabulous is her armor.
“And you must be Julian,” Winny says, extending a hand. She gives him an appraising look. “It seems you found your phone.”
Oops.Hell hath no fury like a woman defending her best friend’s honor. In the mess that has been the last few days, I’ve neglected to let her know that Julian was back in contact and in our good graces.
Julian takes Winny’s hand, affecting an expression that is just the right amount of contrite.
“It’s nice to meet you, Winona, and I definitely deserved that,” he says.
“I know,” Winona says. Then she turns a curious glance to me. “I can’t say that I expected us to meet today.”
I wince. I probably, no,definitelyshould’ve asked before bringing a date to her kid’s dance recital. I was supposed to be Winona’s plus-one. Now I’ve turned her into a third wheel. It’s an oversight I never could’ve seen myself making a few months ago.