Equilibrium (18 page)

Finding the wetness on her cheeks made her even shakier, like when she was little and noticed blood after skinning her knee. She thought back through the events of the afternoon, trying to figure out what precisely had stuck in her gut and was now churning out tears. Incredibly, the tears had nothing to do with her.

“Troy’s seeing a doctor Thursday,” she said. “The shrink I told you about.”

“Uh-huh. So that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, awesome.”

“Sounds like this shrink guy knows his stuff. If your brother has your dad’s problem, then he can help. And if Troy doesn’t, even better.”

“I suppose.” If Super Shrink diagnosed Troy with bipolar, little brother could look forward to a lifetime of pills and doctors, with a messy suicide as his final Daddy-like act. Some patients even offed themselves while in the disorder’s early stages as a preventative measure.

Nick refused to look away, even though she knew she looked ugly when she cried. A box of tissues came her way for the second time today, and this time she accepted the offering. She blew her nose and pocketed the wet wad.

“Better?” Nick asked.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Your family’s like mine. Really small. It’s just me and my mom and grandmother, so we stick together. Hang tough through all the crap. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

Nick returned to his original position above her and lowered his weight as she slid beneath him. His unfaltering gaze blurred her vision. He felt so good. Smelled so good. Tasted so good. She couldn’t tell whose heartbeat was pounding through her chest wall—his or hers.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Nick.

He unbuttoned her jeans, and she helped him push her pants and underwear down together. He moved his hand over her stomach, past her stomach. A small hitched gasp rumbled through her mouth and into Nick’s, so they could both feel the gravelly texture. “Shh, it’s okay. I just wanna make you feel good. I won’t do anything else. Trust me,” he said, and she held her hand to his.

Chapter 22

M
onday night found Laura kicking herself, annoyed to distraction by her willingness to please her daughter. Darcy was already half an hour late for her half-an-hour-later-than-usual curfew, making Laura sorry she’d agreed to the exception. She’d called Nick’s house ten minutes ago and spoken to his mother. Hope had no more idea what was delaying the kids than Laura did. Well, that wasn’t true. Laura had plenty of ideas, and none of them softened her edges.

Laura threw in a load of wash and booted up the computer. For the first time in years, this morning, the writing muse had whispered in Laura’s ear.

She’d been resisting the muse’s voice all day.

For years, Laura had pictured the muse as a young woman with long, flowing hair, pastel-pink fairy wings, a to the floor lavender gown, and a voice like cool whipped cream frosting. Now the muse spoke to Laura in a voice decidedly male, entirely warm, and completely Aidan’s. He’d called her the genius behind Jack’s writing. He’d deemed her writing fresh. He’d found her work sensual.

He’d found her sensual.

When Laura thought back to Aidan’s encouragement, and the ensuing kiss, she didn’t know whether she should apply for a grant to the MacDowell Colony for artists in Peterborough or show up at Aidan’s doorstep wearing nothing but a white calla lily behind her ear and a big grin across her face. So far, she’d neither committed to writing nor decided what to do about her spring-fever crush on Aidan. The fact the man was seven years her junior and renting the apartment in her home made him doubly inappropriate for her.

Wasn’t that what she’d decided before he’d gone and kissed her? Before she’d, quite aggressively, kissed him right back? After Aidan had taken the call from his ex-girlfriend and told Kitty not to call again, he’d hung up the phone. Laura and Aidan had hugged good night. He’d kissed her on the chin, and it had gotten . . . awkward.

What if Friday night hadn’t really happened? What if she’d dreamed it, and the events were no more solid than the unreal night terror she couldn’t shake off, even after she’d opened her eyes? What if everything had happened and Aidan regretted it?

Worse yet, what if he regretted nothing?

A knock came at the side door, and Laura flinched. She checked her watch. Darcy, forty-five minutes late, and she’d forgotten her key again. Smiling when she should’ve been scowling, Laura yanked open the door.

Aidan stood on her doorstep, wearing a big grin. Hands jammed into his pockets, he was fully clothed, and no calla lily poked from behind either ear. “Can I come in?”

Laura stepped back. “Did you lock yourself out?”

He shook his head and stepped into the mudroom, the way he’d entered her home the first day he’d rented the studio. Aidan rubbed at the back of his neck, his adorable sign of embarrassment, and a feathery scratch irritated Laura’s throat. He was her renter, and she his landlady. By definition, their relationship was unequal, just like when she and Jack were student and teacher.

Except this time,
Laura
had totally crossed the line of propriety. “I apologize.”

Aidan squinted at her. “For what?”

“For kissing you Friday night,” she said. “That will never happen again. I don’t want you to come in through the outside door. You live here, too. I want you to feel at home. I mean it is your home. You shouldn’t have to get all weird and formal around the landlady.”

“Who?”

“I’m your landlady, and you’re my tenant, and I am so sorry.”

Aidan’s gaze slid to the side, and a smile tugged at his lips. “You think you took advantage of me?”

“I promise, it will never happen again.”

A laugh burst out of him, and he stepped closer. “That’s a shame because I came over to ask you out on a date.”

“Aidan, no, you don’t have to—”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “First a date, then you get to kiss the girl. I haven’t really dated for years, so I apologize for my misstep.”

“You haven’t dated? What about Kitty?”

“What about her? We met in college at freshman orientation, and we were together for ten years. I wouldn’t exactly call that dating. See, I skip steps. My bad.”

“Ten years is a long time,” she said. Judging by Kitty’s Friday night phone call and her cry of anguish, she still loved Aidan. Yet, he’d broken up with her and moved on with his life. Jack had left a family who’d loved him. Was love that easy for Aidan to give up, too? “What went wrong?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Kitty. We weren’t right for each other. That’s all,” he said, referring back to the vague reason he’d given Kitty over the phone. He widened his stance and crossed his arms, letting Laura know she’d once again overstepped the rules of propriety.

But she just had to know. “Why not? Why weren’t you right for each other?”

“What’s with the twenty questions?” Aidan inhaled through his nose. His through the mouth exhalation told of a ten-years-too-long exhaustion. “I grew up. She didn’t. End of my story. What’s your story, Laura Klein?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, and her words sounded pinched. “You already know my sad little story. I don’t want to—”

“But it wasn’t always sad, right? How did you meet Jack?” he asked, and her cheeks burned with the memory of her and Jack’s secret inappropriate relationship.

Aidan’s white-toothed grin flashed victory, but he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

“I was a freshman in college when I met Jack,” she said.

On her desk, Aidan tapped four times: index finger, middle, ring, pinkie. “Keep going,” he said. “I’ve still got sixteen more questions.”

“I didn’t—you can’t—”

“What did you find interesting about him?” he said, and he held a closed-fist microphone in front of her face.

Laura leaned toward his hand, eager to show Aidan she was a good sport, eager to end this game she’d started. “To me, he was this worldly man. He’d traveled. He was accomplished, making a name for himself as a writer. Which, by the way, hardly ever happens.” There. Enough said.

“Oh, oh. I’ve got a better question,” he said, and tapped her desk. “Why did you want to date him?”

“I was young,” she said, a lame excuse.

“He impressed you.”

“I thought if I can win this man, then some of that great maturity would rub off on me.”

Tap.
“Did it?”

“Oh, yeah.” From the inside of her lips, her pulse ticked a Morse code warning. “Quickie wedding, one kid after another, graduated from college, and before I knew it I was all grown up at twenty-two, and married to a very irresponsible man.” She hadn’t meant to reveal so much, but something about the close quarters, the nighttime. Something about Aidan . . .

Aidan removed his faux microphone. His fingers did not tap. His expression did not judge. “He never grew up,” he said, and his intonation blended empathy and understanding.

“No, he didn’t.” For the life of him, Jack couldn’t manage to get his cereal bowl from the sink to the dishwasher. And the last time she’d asked him to throw in a wash, he’d verified the laws of color mixing. When red and white bedding were laundered together, they did in fact produce pink offspring.

Laura was partially at fault. For years, she’d defended Jack when Elle had insisted she did too much for him.
You’re his wife, girl, not his freaking maid.

Jack was gone. What was the point of defending him to Aidan?

What was the point of Aidan defending Kitty, a girl who’d never matured?

Aidan lifted his fingers to tap. “When did you and Kitty start growing apart?” Laura asked.

“I’m not done tapping.”

“How many questions have you asked so far?”

“I wasn’t really counting,” he said, and he slipped her a bright-eyed smirk. The unique combination of smugness and innocence tweaked her heart.

“How long ago?” she asked.

He pressed three fingers to his lips, as though challenging himself. “Too long.”

“But you stayed because you were in love with her.”

He offered the barest shake of his head. “Not exactly.”

“What exactly, then?”

Aidan scrunched his mouth, and his eyes turned down at the corners, a secondary sadness that Laura had caused. “I stayed because I’d once been in love with her.”

Laura had loved Jack till the end. She still loved him. But
in
love was a whole different country.

How could you be in love with a man who demanded you help him with his life’s work, and then invalidated your efforts? How could you be in love with a man who, time and again, refused to take responsibility for his illness, in spite of the toll it took on his family? How could you be in love with a man who took you entirely for granted?

Yet, Laura had never thought to leave him. Maybe if Jack hadn’t died, and maybe years from now, after the kids were grown and gone, their marriage would’ve come to that conclusion. Now she’d never know.

“Moving along,” Aidan said. “Enough about Kitty. I came here to ask you on a hike or to the movies or to dinner, whatever you want. What do you like?”

“I like you, Aidan.”

“That’s a start.”

“But I can’t go on a date with you.”

“You’re still grieving. You’re not ready. I get it.”

“I might be ready, but this situation . . . I wouldn’t want my kids to find out we went out on a date. They’ve been through so much, and I wouldn’t want them to get, you know, emotionally invested with the thought of us.”

Aidan gave her a long look. The corners of his mouth turned up, but he pressed his lips together.

“For goodness sake, say something.”

“You think too much.”

“Thank you?”

“Just an observation,” he said, and he glanced at her desk, the screen opened to NewsBank. “Research keeping you up nights?”

“That and Darcy,” Laura said, glancing at the mudroom door. “Darcy’s nearly an hour late for her curfew, and I’m waiting for her to walk through the door any minute now.” Laura’s mouth twisted. “She’d better walk through that door.”

“Let me guess. She’s out with her boyfriend?”

“Charming Nick.”

Aidan nodded. “I know the type. My sister Caroline dated one of those. Couldn’t trust He Who Must Not Be Named to tell me the day of the week. Best to assume every word out of his mouth was a lie.”

“He lied to your sister?”

“Lied to me, every chance he got. Every damn time they came home late, whenever I asked where they’d been. He was very creative with his excuses. I’ll give the kid that much.”

“Did he lie to your mother?” Laura asked.

“Didn’t give him the chance. Kid had to get through me first.” Aidan fisted his hands, puffed out his chest. When he widened his eyes and camped a papa-bear growl, Laura couldn’t help but laugh.

“Caroline was how old?” Laura asked.

“Sixteen,” Aidan said. “And I was seventeen. Caroline and me, we’re Catholic twins.”

Laura tried to picture a teenage good-natured Aidan putting the fear of God into a boy nearly his age. “At seventeen, you were disciplining your sister’s boyfriend?”

Aidan punched a fist into his palm, softening up a catcher’s mitt. “I prefer the term
intimidating
,” he said, and his face glowed. “Yup, that boyfriend didn’t last long.”

The washing machine buzzed, signaling the end of the wash cycle. Perhaps Aidan had some tips she could use, although she strongly suspected if she tried a He-Man pose on Nick and Darcy, all three of them would succumb to hysterical laughter. “Wait right there,” she said, and pointed to her desk chair. “And hold that thought. I want to hear more.”

In the guest bathroom, Laura switched a dark-towel wash for light towels. Washer and dryer rumbled to life. She checked her reflection in the mirror and wondered what Aidan saw when he looked at her. When he’d kissed her, she’d floated out of time and place. She’d forgotten her name, her age, and her position in life. The silly college girl inside Laura had grinned from ear to ear, giddy with irrational optimism. Even now, the thought of Aidan had her craving his touch the way she craved her favorite decadent dessert, a molten chocolate cake she could eat in three bites.

What would be the harm in going on one little date with him? She didn’t have to tell the kids or her girlfriends. The kids’ emotional investment would pale compared to Elle’s and Maggie’s, the precise reason she’d told neither of them about that amazing kiss.

She tried running her hands through her hair, and her fingers stuck in the snarls. From the medicine cabinet, she took an elastic band and corralled her hair. With a click, she opened the bathroom door. A male voice sounded from the mudroom. Aidan’s? Darcy’s voice, dripping with attitude, Laura recognized, although she usually saved the ennui for Laura. Nick’s response, contempt masquerading as politeness, hastened Laura’s pace.

Laura no longer had to try and imagine good-natured Aidan intimidating a kid.

“Not cool, Nick,” Aidan said, his voice controlled yet booming. “You date a girl, you need to get her home on time, follow house rules, buddy.”

Nick and Aidan were about the same height, yet Aidan towered over the boy. An arm’s length from Aidan and up against the door, Nick clenched his fists. His nostrils flared. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

The air thickened. The walls of Laura’s cozy mudroom office narrowed to a tunnel. That too-familiar cotton-ball sensation clogged Laura’s throat. She glanced at her desk phone, 911 set on speed-dial, like every phone in the house. She hoped to God she’d never have to use it again.

Darcy stood to Laura’s right, one hand clasping a bookshelf, the other digging nails into her thigh. “Who do you think you are?” Darcy asked Aidan, her voice shrill as ice. “Don’t listen to him, Nick.”

“Just looking out for you, Darcy,” Aidan said.

Laura appreciated the relief of, for once, not having to do it all herself. But how could she effectively discipline Darcy and gain Nick’s respect if Aidan diminished her authority by taking control?