Bankers' Hours (17 page)

“Tristan?” I rasped. My throat was dry.

He turned his head and looked at me. “Grant. You’re awake.” He leaned down and kissed my head. “I’m glad. I was worried I’d have to call an ambulance, and I didn’t know any of your insurance information.” He repositioned himself so he was lying on his side right next to me, his arm across my stomach.

“How did I get in bed?” I asked weakly.

“You fainted. Don’t you remember?”

“No.”

“I heard you hit the floor. I rushed in and helped you up. You were dazed, but you spoke just fine.” He seemed concerned. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Maybe you
should
see a doctor to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it will come back.” I touched my chest and fingered my T-shirt. “Did I undress myself?” I didn’t remember that either.

“I picked you up, Grant, and tucked you in bed after removing your top layer. I knew you’d be upset if I took everything off.”

I gave him a tiny smile. “Very true.” My throat was scratchy, so I asked, “Can I get a drink?”

He jumped up. “Of course.” Tristan returned with a glass of water and helped me sit up. After I drank half of it, he set the glass on the coaster on my nightstand. “You had me worried.” Tristan ran his fingers through my hair and caressed my cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

I rolled my eyes. “Understatement of the year.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

“But you said you loved me,” I reminded him.

Tristan reclined on the bed as before, very close, gazing deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I think I do. Every time you look at me something invisible takes a hold of my heart, but that doesn’t mean we need to go through with this wedding next week. We can do it in the spring, like you suggested. That makes more sense. By then, maybe you won’t faint from stressing about it.”

I took a deep breath, held it, and released it. Logic had no seat in my house anymore, or at my dining room table. I had invited chaos in when I had blurted imaginary wedding plans at Teresa. I’d done this. Me. Yes, I could back out and resume my boring, predictable life, where everything had to line up at right angles and zero out at the end of each day, but was the safe bet wise? I closed my eyes and meditated on it. Tristan was kind, romantic, sweet, considerate, attentive, and honorable. Why would I pass that up just because it didn’t make sense logically? Life wasn’t always logical.

I opened my eyes and took another deep breath.

“No,” I said. “I’m not backing out. I want to go through with it. I want to marry you. It’s overwhelming, and I’m sorry I fainted, but it was the stress. I didn’t freak out and panic because I’m being forced against my will.” I held his eyes so he could see my honesty. “I can’t tell you I love you, because I’ve never been in love. I won’t lie; I’m scared. But even with the insanity surrounding us, I can’t deny I feel
something
when I look at you. No one has ever treated me half as well as you. I believe you when you say you love me. I promise, when I know for sure, I’ll say it back.”

One tear spilled from the corner of Tristan’s eye as he took me into his arms against his chest. He held me in silence for the longest time, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. I wondered what he was thinking. I hoped I’d said the right thing and he wasn’t mad, but I couldn’t say those words without knowing for sure.

Then he whispered, “You are such a beautiful person, Grant.”

BASICALLY WE
repeated Saturday morning on Sunday, only at my house and without the insane ex yelling at us. We didn’t talk about the craziness of Saturday or my poorly executed reactions. We laughed and made waffles without flour strewn across every surface. We snuggled on my couch and watched
Pitch Black
. We also made out on my bed for two hours before Tristan suggested he leave. This time we controlled ourselves—no dry humping or groping—but I had to relieve the pressure after he’d gone. My balls were aching, and my dick was harder than I’d ever felt in my life. If we didn’t have sex soon, I feared something inside might rupture.

Before I turned off my light, I texted my mom.
Are you still awake?

She texted back:
This is rather late, don’t you think? Is everything all right?

Yes. Remember how I said I met a guy?

Yes. The shop owner?

The auto mechanic shop, yes. Well… we sort of… we’re getting married.

My phone rang. “Hello?”

My mother wasn’t so polite. “Grant, if this is some sort of joke….”

“No, Mom, it’s not. We went out, and it sort of just happened. We’re getting married on Saturday. He bought me a ring and everything.”

I heard her exhale heavily into the receiver. “I’ve wondered for years if you’d ever settle down. Although I hoped it would be soon, and possibly with the shop owner, I’ll admit I’m shocked. It’s a bit abrupt, don’t you think, dear? You hardly know this man. What’s his name?”

“Tristan Carr.” Her arguments were sound and nothing I could dispute.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” she asked.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and then answered, “Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t. I was sighing because I thought you’d yell.”

“Grant, you’re twenty-six years old. At some point you need to make your own decisions and stick by them. I thought it was a miracle when you moved out.”

I was flabbergasted. “What? I thought you wanted me living with you all that time. I thought you were lonely after Dad died.”

“I do miss your father, but I have friends. Many friends. Since you’ve been out of the house, I haven’t had to worry about them staying over too late. I can have dinner parties and go to the theater without having to worry about you. I even have several bus trips coming up. I’m very busy.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. Somehow, I felt deflated. All these years I thought I’d been doing her a favor by being so attentive to her. “So you’re not bothered that I haven’t texted all weekend?”

“Sweetheart, I hoped you were out having sex all weekend.”

I sat up and squawked, “Ah! I did not just hear you say that!”

“Grant, honey, you need to loosen up. If this man is patient enough to see the kindness behind your quirks, then I’m glad you two are getting married. Let me know when and where, and I’ll attend. For now, I’d like to get some rest. One of my bus trips is tomorrow. A group of us are going to see the Natural Bridge in Virginia.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

“It should be. Now go to sleep, Grant. I know how cranky you get when you don’t get enough sleep before work.”

“Good night, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too dear. Good night.”

I hung up and set my phone on my nightstand. The one call I’d dreaded making and it had totally flipped my assumptions all around. I’d gotten the impression my mother was more relieved about my wedding than upset.
Wow
. I flopped back down on my pillow. This new town was beginning to feel like the Twilight Zone. All this change, and now my mom—I didn’t know what to think. I closed my eyes and hoped for sleep.

MONDAY MORNING,
Tristan met me at the courthouse and we filed the necessary paperwork for a marriage license. I hadn’t expected them to issue the license right then. When we walked out with an official document in hand—that would be valid basically two days later—it frightened me how real it was getting. We had up to six months to get hitched, but Tristan wanted to do it Saturday when he had Claire.

“Are you stopping by the bank later?” I asked as we stood in the parking lot next to my car.

“No. I have way too much work. I’ve been putting things off so I could come see you during the week, but I need to spend time catching up. I have some bills due.” Tristan had his hands on my hips, and I could feel him rubbing his thumbs against my shirt.

“Okay. When will I see you?” I asked, worried it would be a couple of days. Our weekend might have been intense, but I wasn’t ready to go back to sleeping alone every night.

“Maybe Wednesday?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It wasn’t like we were married
yet
; I didn’t
need
to see him all the time. “Okay.” I glided my hands up his chest and took ahold of the lapels of his work shirt. “Promise to think about me?” Yes, I sounded pathetic, but he was probably used to it by now. He’d had a crash course.

Tristan grinned. Apparently my gloom amused him. “Every minute of every hour until I see you again.” He kissed me before I could answer.

“Really?” I asked, less dour than a second before. “You think about me that much?”

“You bet I do. That’s why I kept coming to the bank. I’ll make time again once I get some things squared away.”

I nodded. It was unfair to guilt him into visiting since his reasons were very mature. Of course he had bills to pay and things to take care of. This was not like the other guys I’d dated who never returned after one date. I could trust Tristan to come back to me.

“Hey, look at me.”

When I brought my chin up, he paused and then kissed me again, slow and deep. I wrapped my arms around his neck and mewled into his mouth. When he released me, I was good and relaxed. I needed the feeling to carry me through until he kissed me again.

“I’ll see you Wednesday. If you need anything, you can drop by anytime. My door’s always open.”

“Open.” The word prompted me to remember something I had for him. “Oh, wait,” I said, fumbling to reach into my pants pocket. “I have a key for you. I made it for my mother, but I forgot to give it to her the last time we had dinner together. I want you to have it. I don’t leave my door open, but you’re welcome to drop by anytime.”

He took the key and smiled. “Thank you, Grant.” He kissed me one more time. “I really have to go. I have a brake job I’m supposed to get done before lunch, and the day is already disappearing. Take care of that document.”

I held it up. “Sure thing. I’m very responsible, I promise.”

“I’ll see ya.” Another chaste kiss, and he was gone.

I had to go to work and put on a happy face. Could I? I set the manila folder that protected our marriage license on the seat next to me as I drove to work.

THE ANSWER
was yes. I acted normal on Monday and all day on Tuesday. Luckily the two hickeys Tristan had given me were below my collar, so when I wore a tie, no one at work noticed. My life seemed normal and fine, except for the seventeen trips I took to the bathroom. I wasn’t sick, and I hadn’t drunk gallons of water like I’d told Jessica; I’d gone into the bathroom so I could text Tristan. He didn’t always respond right away, but after several texts he had gotten more responsive. It’s like he knew I needed just a little something. Anything. Even a smiley face was better than hours of silence.

Mel called Tuesday night.

“Hey, stranger. What’ve you been up to all weekend? It’s not like us to go four days without talking, or at the very least texting.” He sounded chipper, not upset or anything. I also noticed how much deeper his voice was. I had been used to hearing it every day. Now, with some time in between, he sounded huskier.

“I thought you’d let me know how your date went, since I live vicariously through you. You did go out with that guy, right? Tristan?”

I dried my hands after I finished washing the last of my dinner dishes. I had the phone perched between my ear and my shoulder. Not comfortable, but the position was doable until I’d finished washing. “Yeah. We went out.”

“Uh-oh. That’s a short answer. Don’t tell me this guy bombed too. I was hoping this would be it for you.” He sounded so sad for me. “One of us has to score.”

How could I tell Mel everything? I knew I had to, but how? “Um, no. He was fine.” I knew the short answer would prompt more questions.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don’t get to abbreviate. Tell me everything.”

I strolled over to the couch and sat. I touched the cushion Tristan had sat on just a couple of days before. We’d snuggled there. Tristan had stretched out on my couch and held me against his chest. He’d played with my hair and drawn lazy circles on my arm while we watched
Pitch Black
.

I miss him.

“Grant? Are you crying?”

“What? No, of course not.” I sniffled and wiped my nose. Not crying, but certainly working myself close to it by reminiscing. “No, I was just thinking about the weekend. It was fun… and different.”

“How so? I need details.”

I grabbed the small sofa pillow and held it in my lap as I talked. I liked fingering the silky fringe around the edges. “First we went to dinner, which started out rough because I spilled my drink across the table and it ended up in his lap.”

“Oh, no. Like Kenny,” he gasped.

“Yes. Exactly what I thought. I tried begging for forgiveness, but Tristan was totally cool about it. He asked if I’d done it on purpose, and after I’d told him no, he said to forget about it because accidents happen.”

“Wow. That’s terrific. Sounds like he’s leagues beyond those other guys already.”

I agreed, “He is. After dinner, we watched a movie at his house and ended up making out on his living room floor.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He told me I needed to go. Tristan doesn’t want our relationship to be about sex. He’s really into me and wants this to be long-term.” I had to work up to telling Mel I was about to get married to the guy.

“Really? He can tell that about you already? You’ve been on one date. Unless… unless more happened over the weekend that you’re not telling me? Did you see him again on Sunday? I ran into your mother at Starbucks in Ellicott City, and she said she hadn’t heard from you.”

“My mom? I texted her late Sunday night.”

“Ah! That explains it. But get back to Tristan. What happened next?”

I removed my glasses and set them on the side table, then rubbed my face, thinking of where to begin and how to explain everything. I ran my hand over my hair, appreciating the fact it was soft, slightly wavy, and easily managed. It rarely got messed up, even on windy days, because I kept it cut fairly short. All I had to do was rake my fingers through it, and it all fell back into place. Jessica was right: I had perfect hair.