A Love Like This (20 page)

With my phone safely on the vanity, I sank
thankfully into the warmth of the soothing water. I closed my eyes;
trying desperately to push any resentment toward Jane away. It
wasn’t fair to be angry with her. Her intrusion was a small price
to pay for what she had done and soon it would all fade into the
background. I would be gracious to our guests and not torment Ryan
by telling him of my Santa plans. I just wish he would’ve asked me
first and that it didn’t have to be tonight of all nights.

I rubbed wearily at my temples. Work was
hectic, and with plans for the New Year’s Eve bash at Lincoln
Center, there would be no possible way that Ryan and I could get
away to Chicago for Christmas as his parents had hoped. We should
have known that his schedule and my obligations at the magazine
would make it impossible this year. I longed to invite them to New
York, but our apartment was small and Ryan would probably be
working at least part of Christmas Eve or Day. I’d pestered him six
weeks ago to put in an early request for New Year’s Eve so he could
accompany me to the gala and I suspected he’d be required on the
other holiday. We’d talked about it and decided that it was more
important that he attend, however, I didn’t look forward to
Christmas Eve without him. I didn’t know what my problem was, I’d
known he’d be working like a dog for the next four or five years,
and it was better than being separated by two hundred miles, but I
still missed him like crazy. Sometimes, I felt silly how much.

When the intercom buzzed and the phone rang
simultaneously, I was startled, sitting up in the tub and splashing
water on the floor.

“Shit!” I ranted as I hopped out and grabbed
the phone and a towel and slipped on a puddle next to the tub. I
flailed and grabbed the sink just in time to catch myself, but the
phone went clattering to the floor and I winced as pain shot
through my lower back. Ugh. The buzzer sounded again as I scrambled
to answer the phone. It was Ryan.

“Hi, sweetie.” I tried to keep the pain
still ricocheting through me out of my voice as I struggled into
the white robe I’d left hanging on the bathroom door and hurried to
the front door of the apartment. “I need to call you back.
Someone’s here and the doorman is buzzing.”

“Go see who it is. I’ll hold on.”

I didn’t argue. “Okay. Just a second.” I
pushed down on the intercom, still holding the phone to my head.
“Yes, Adam?”

“Miss Cooper is here, ma’am. Should I send
her up?”

Are you fucking kidding me?
She was
two hours early! I was dripping wet and not prepared to entertain
her until Ryan arrived home, but what could I do?

“Sure. Just give me five minutes, Adam.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Damn! I’m sorry, Jules,” Ryan muttered on
the phone.

“It’s fine, but I don’t have much time to
talk.” I hoped my irritation wasn’t coming through on the phone.
“I’m not dressed, I don’t have make-up on… and dinner isn’t to a
place where I can sit and socialize. I was not prepared for guests
tonight.”

Ryan sighed. “They weren’t supposed to show
up until 8 o’clock.”

“I wish they weren’t showing up at all.” The
words were out before I could stop them; the phone perched between
my ear and shoulder as I struggled to pull on panties and jeans
over my wet legs. I jumped up and down a couple of times as I
yanked them on over my wet legs.

“Julia,” Ryan began. “I was trying to give
Daniel a reason to show his face.”

I pulled a white cable knit sweater from
bottom drawer of the dresser and a bra from the top one, slamming
it when I was done and then shoving the red negligee’ carelessly
into another one.
Screw it if it got rumpled
. I didn’t
fucking care.

“Honestly, Ryan? If Jane isn’t enough
incentive to show up, I doubt an evening with us will be. In any
case, Adam didn’t mention Daniel. Apparently, he’s not with
her.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to wash the anger
away. The man probably wouldn’t show up at all and I was beginning
to wonder if he even existed. I felt flustered and pissed at Ryan
and I couldn’t help if it showed in my voice. “Is her relationship
your responsibility now, too?” I didn’t wait for his answer and
rushed on. “I gotta go, Ryan. She’s ringing the doorbell.” I shut
my phone off and threw it on the bed, ran into the bathroom and
quickly brushed my hair off my face and tied it up in a messy knot.
My face was pale except for the angry flush on my cheeks. I
shrugged ambivalently at my reflection; my plans to take extra time
with my appearance impossible, now, too.
Whatever. If Ryan
thinks I look like a hag, it’s his own damn fault.

I hurried down the hall to the door and
stopped, pushing a lose strand of hair out of my eyes and pasting a
bright smile on my face before I opened the door.

“Hi, Jane! Come in, please.” I tried to
sound happy to see her. She looked amazing and I felt hideous. Her
hair was curled and hung in soft waves to her shoulders, her eyes
were bright, lined perfectly and she smelled flowery as she walked
past me into the apartment.

“Hi, Julia. I’m sorry I’m early. I went to
meet up with Daniel, thinking he and I could have drinks first
because I live so far out. I took the subway in,” she was rambling.
I took her coat and groaned internally at her pretty dark blue
cocktail dress. Coupled with her expensive high heels, it left me
feeling like Little Orphan Annie. Jane turned to watch me go into
the kitchen and I motioned for her to follow. “Well, he didn’t want
to leave work yet, and I had nothing to do. I hope you don’t
mind.”

“Of course not,” I lied, gushing as much as
I could manage. “I’m happy to have you! You can keep me company
while I finish dinner, though I might sneak away to freshen up a
little when we’re done.” I smiled again and ushered her onto a
stool. When she was sitting at the counter, I pulled the baked
potatoes out of the oven with oven mitts and left them to cool on
the wire rack.

I went toward the refrigerator and my eyes
found the Merlot sitting on the counter that I’d planned to share
with Ryan. I’d bought two bottles, one for dinner and one for Truth
or Dare. I prayed my aggravation wasn’t showing on my face. “Would
you like a drink, Jane? I have Ryan’s favorite wine for dinner, but
I can open it now, if you wish.” I opened the refrigerator and
rummaged through it.

She hovered and I glanced over my shoulder.
“Do you like red wine?” I asked. Her unease was plain and I felt
terrible that I was resenting her presence. “I can get you
something else. Soda, tea, Perrier?”

“I like it, but let’s save the wine for
Ryan. I’ll have Perrier, please.” Jane glanced around the small
apartment; taking in the art table and the keyboard sitting next to
each other in the small living room, then back around the kitchen.
“What’s his favorite?” she asked as I pulled the bottle out.

“Well, we’re saving for a house, so his
favorite
at the moment
is Charles Shaw. It’s cheap.” My
smile was genuine. “Do you want ice?” When she shook her head, I
poured the Perrier into two glasses after adding ice to one.

“Is the art table yours?”

“Uh huh. Guilty.”

“I figured. Because of your job.” Her
conversation felt forced and I wanted to make her feel more at
ease.

“Yes, I use pencil and other mediums. Soft
pastels, charcoal…” I switched on the stereo and the strains of
Pink’s “Trouble” flowed into the room from one of the Top 40
stations. “I’ve always been artsy. My dad called me artsy-fartsy
when I was young. It was so embarrassing! Ryan tried it once, but I
smacked him good.” Jane laughed as I removed the potatoes from the
foil, sliced the tops off of each and then switched off the oven.
The meat would remain inside for two more hours without added heat:
very hot at first then slowly finishing to assure that the ends of
the roast would be more medium-well but the center would remain a
perfect medium-rare.

“What are you making, Julia? It smells
delicious. I wish I could cook as well as you.”

“Everyone has their own special talents but
cooking is easy. If you can read, you can cook.” I shrugged then
realized I hadn’t answered her question. “Prime rib, twice-baked
potatoes and roasted asparagus.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. It will be
delicious, but that’s expensive, isn’t it?”

“Tonight was a splurge. I wanted to do
something special, plus, it would make a couple of lunches for
Ryan, and I usually make stew out of the leftovers.” I scooped the
insides of the potatoes into a bowl and added all the yummy stuff
you normally pile on top of the potatoes and mashed it all together
before piling the mixture back inside the shells. Jane watched in
silence as I sprinkled the tops with more cheese and set them aside
in a baking dish. I felt awkward and at a loss for words, which was
weird considering I spoke with huge fashion designers and bigwigs
at major ad agencies almost daily.
Shit
. I told myself to
find something—anything—to say, but all that came to mind was my
aching back and my fucked up evening
.
I arranged the cleaned
asparagus on a baking sheet with olive oil, sea salt, and pepper. I
wouldn’t make her feel bad even if I was upset, refusing to allow
myself to act like a pouty child.

“It’s very nice of you, Julia. You’ve been
so wonderful, and Ryan has been an incredible support since the
stabbing.”

I sat down with the other woman when Jane
reminded me of all she’d suffered. I felt like a heel for even
thinking what I’d been thinking.
Could I be a bigger
bitch?

“Ryan’s been worried about you. We both
have, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you.” My earlier chagrin
toward the woman vanished. “I assume Daniel will arrive in time for
dinner? Ryan and I are both looking forward to having him.”

Jane pulled her hand free, and her eyes
wouldn’t meet mine. “Mmm… no. He said he won’t be able to get away
from work.”

“Surely there are others who can be
available for a few hours?”

She shook her head and got up to roam around
the living room. “Nope. Just Daniel.”

“For such a big corporation?” I was
doubtful. Either this guy was the biggest asshole on the planet or
he was a figment of Jane’s imagination. “I mean, isn’t there a
whole team of IT people?”

Jane’s fingers ran along the keyboard,
almost in a caress. “Sure, but he’s in charge. Ryan plays?” She
dismissed the discussion of her boyfriend.

I wondered why she would assume it was Ryan?
Obviously, he hadn’t told her. “Yes, he’s amazing.”

“I can see he would be. He has such amazing
hands; I can imagine his long fingers caressing the keys so gently.
Maybe he’ll play later?”

The hair on the back of my arms stood up.
Either I was oversensitive or Jane showed way too much interest in
Ryan’s hands. “He’s usually pretty beat, but you can ask him.”

She sank down on the sofa, staring up at the
portrait I’d done of Ryan which was hanging over the fireplace
mantle. “Wow. He’s so handsome. Did you do that? It’s
incredible.”

“Yes. A few years ago.” Jealousy reared its
ugly head, and I tried to push it away, but there was no way I was
willing to share the details around that drawing from the first
Thanksgiving in Los Angeles. I’d drawn that portrait the night we’d
first made love and it meant the world to both of us. “It’s…” I
began and then stopped.

“Why isn’t it finished? I mean, it’s cool
the way it fades out like that, but is there a reason?” Jane
probed.

My mind rushed back to that moment and a
soft smile curved my mouth. “He woke up.” I had no clue what to
say, so I told the truth. “It was a special time for us. Ryan said
I stole his soul that night.” I got up and pulled out a cutting
board and knife to begin slicing the strawberries for the
cheesecake.
Let’s get some perspective, shall we?

A soft huff left the other woman’s mouth.
“Wow. He’s so…”

I swallowed and forced my hands to keep
slicing the strawberries, waiting for her next words, while a sick
feeling of dread washed over me. It wasn’t easy watching another
woman fall in love with your husband. I’d have to be an idiot not
to see it. I must have been an idiot not to expect it after his
devotion to her at the hospital. Not even a year ago, I was the one
in a hospital bed with Ryan by my side. It took me all of five
minutes to fall in love with him again.

“He’s so romantic and special. Daniel hasn’t
ever said anything like that to me.”

I swallowed and forced myself to keep
slicing the strawberries. What could I say?
Yes, Ryan is very
romantic and special.
Those were the words racing through my
head, and the dreamy look in her eyes had them followed up with:
but he’s mine.
I felt bad for Jane on one hand, but very
territorial when it came to Ryan. I couldn’t help the way her words
made my entire demeanor stiffen. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I
was compassionate to her situation, but I didn’t want her building
romantic dreams around my husband. I decided the best course of
action would be to reverse the conversation. “Yes, I’m very lucky.
How long have you been seeing Daniel?”

Methodically, I went through the motions of
making the dessert. It was a good thing my back was to her, because
my face burned as Jane told me about Daniel, her voice lacking the
awe and enthusiasm it held when she’d just talked about Ryan. I was
proud of him, but the familiar way in which she spoke of him had me
wishing he wasn’t quite so damn giving. I was used to women wanting
him; I’d had years of practice. He’d always been indifferent to
other women before, and I never felt threatened. Even with Liza
Nash; that twit from Harvard, Ryan’s disinterest had been obvious.
However, he respected Jane, and he liked working with her and it
was clear he was letting her in. My heart thudded sickeningly in my
chest. So Daniel wasn’t coming, and I’d be forced to endure an
evening packed with Jane’s awe of Ryan.