Ms. Match (16 page)

Paul’s heart sped up, his breathing quickened and he picked up the phone so fast he knocked over a stack of files. “Gwen?”

Silence. Finally, “No. Autumn.”

Everything in him deflated like a flat tire. It had been almost a month since he’d last seen Gwen or spoken to Autumn. He felt like hanging up the phone without a word, but if there was even a slim chance that Autumn had news about her sister, he’d stick with it. “Sorry. Hi, Autumn. What can I do for you?”

“You could try and be a little happier to hear from me.”

“You sound good,” he said, knowing the compliment would soothe her ego.

“I would be, if I wasn’t missing you so much. I know we said some things we both regret. That’s a pity because we used to get along so well.”

“We did.” That was before Gwen, of course, but it was true nonetheless.

“So how about we go out to dinner? My treat. Wherever you want. Whenever. I’m here for a week, so I can clear my book. I’d like to apologize. Seriously. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that. I just feel so bad.”

It was Monday, and Mondays weren’t easy for him, still. He kept thinking about baseball trivia. About the great wings and hot sauce. Holly and the rest of the gang. He missed everything about Monday night.

“Paul?”

“Yeah, sorry. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. Besides, I can’t imagine you don’t have a dozen men right now that would love nothing more than to be with you.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice as he remembered from before. Breathy, feminine, beguiling. She was turning it on for his benefit, although he couldn’t fathom why.

Then it occurred to him. The first clue he’d had about Autumn had come from Gwen. She’d told him that the trick to sleeping with Autumn was to not want her. He smiled as he recalled her exact words: “…then her legs will part like the Red Sea.”

Why wasn’t he surprised that Gwen had been exactly right?

“I’ve got a meeting to get to, Autumn. Thanks for the call and the invitation. We’re not meant to be, that’s all. I wish you well.”

“That’s it?” Gone was the flirtation, the cajoling lilt. “I know you’re not seeing her anymore. And we never—”

“I’ve got to run. Take care of yourself. Let someone else drive.”

“But—”

“Goodbye.” No, he wasn’t seeing Gwen anymore. Just thinking about her every day. Every night.

He’d worked hard to convince himself that it was for the best. That he and Gwen would never have made it. That might have even been true, if he could have gone back to being his old self.

She’d ruined it. Or he’d ruined things for himself. He’d changed in ways that constantly caught him off guard. He used to love going to the ballpark, but it had lost its magic. He still went, still cheered for his team. And he thought about Gwen.

He’d had some dates. He’d tried to hook up with the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to. Gorgeous, connected. Actresses and models. Maybe he’d just found particularly dull companions. In any event, there were none he wanted to pursue. Then he’d tried going against type, but it was soon clear that he could find women who had one or two traits that reminded him of Gwen, but none of them had the whole package. Jennifer had made him hope, because she’d looked a little like Gwen, but she’d been self-conscious the whole evening, barely saying a word.

It sucked. The whole thing.

He’d continued reading. Many a night he’d fallen asleep with some big hardback on his chest. But there was no one to discuss it with.

Damn, she’d even tainted poker night. His friends weren’t as funny, cared about things that no longer interested him. They all assured him he’d snap out of it. He wasn’t so certain.

He picked up the phone. Stared at it for a while, wondering yet again if she’d answer. Or if she’d just tell him to leave her alone. In the end, he put it down and went back to signing checks, wondering what she was doing.

SOMEONE NAMED YoMama was ahead of Gwen by ten points. She had no idea who he was and worse, she didn’t care. She’d been dethroned almost a month ago, after she’d returned to trivia night at Bats and Balls. Her friends continued to be concerned about her, which was very nice, but she wished they’d all stop looking at her as if she’d been in some horrible accident. She hadn’t lost a limb. Just a man. A man who continued to haunt her.

“You want another one?”

She shook her head at Holly. Gwen didn’t want another beer or wings or popcorn or cheering up or anything else. Her only wish was for the pain to stop. She’d known it would be difficult, but good God she’d been unprepared for just how painful it would be.

She felt as if she were living some sort of half life. That she was back in black-and-white Kansas after the dazzle of Oz. Her job was something to get through. Hell, everything was something to get through. One step, then another. No respite even in sleep, as he came to her night after night in her dreams.

The worst of it was how her mind insisted on tormenting her with scenarios in which the two of them had made it. Got engaged, got married, moved to Europe, joined a cult, anything that ignored the truth.

Holly, bless her, had finally stopped urging her to try again with Paul. Even her best friend couldn’t take away the ache, no matter how much she tried.

Gwen looked up just in time to see she’d missed another question. Why did she even bother coming? Mondays were difficult enough without showing up at the bar. Holly had sworn that getting back into the swing of her life would help, but it hadn’t. Nothing helped. She could barely watch the Dodgers play. She hadn’t gone to movies, had excused herself from softball knowing that she’d be no use.

“Hey, would you pay attention?” Holly said. “Even I know the answer to that one.”

Gwen looked up at the big screen and hit the correct button on her machine. “Thanks,” she said, working to sound cheerful.

“I meant to tell you, there’s a film festival coming to Century City next week. We can get a pass for about fifty bucks. Want to?”

She didn’t. She also didn’t want to shut Holly out yet again. “Let me see what the movies are. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Holly’s words were upbeat, hopeful, but her tone was filled with concern.

Gwen smiled at her friend, wishing it could be different. She made herself participate in the game until the last question had been asked, and the winners listed. She was in the top twenty-five. She tried to care.

The drive home was quiet, as it always was these days. Holly parked and said good-night. The moment Gwen was alone, the prospect of the long night ahead filled her with dread.

Someone was at her front door, but she could see it wasn’t him. It was a woman. The closer she got in the hallway, the slower her steps grew as she realized it was Autumn.

What the hell was she doing there? Gwen thought about turning around, getting into her car and just driving until she was sure Autumn had left. But then her sister called out her name and it was too late.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen asked, not even attempting to disguise how much she didn’t want Autumn there.

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Autumn, her makeup perfect, her outfit perfect, scowled. “Just open the damn door.”

Regretting it even as she put her key in the lock, she let Autumn in, then followed. The apartment was messy. The newspaper and her morning coffee were still on the table. She’d left dishes in the sink and her sweater from two nights ago remained draped over the couch.

Once the lights were on, she wished for the darkness. For Autumn to go away. Seeing her made everything worse. “Say what you came to say.”

Full of righteous indignation Autumn glared at her as she had since childhood. “I want to know what you said to him.”

Gwen put down her purse. “What?”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Gwen.”

The sound of her name on Autumn’s lips made Gwen wince. There was such ugliness to her sister, more and more the older she got. “I have no patience for your histrionics, Autumn. If you have a point, get to it.”

“Paul doesn’t even want to talk to me anymore.”

Gwen’s stomach twisted and her throat wanted to close, but she held on, not giving a thing away. “That’s his choice. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You had to. He was falling for me. He used to call me all the time, begging to see me.” She paced a bit in her high heels. Why anyone would wear stilettos with jeans was beyond Gwen. But then, she didn’t understand anything about her family.

“He used to call me when I was in Rome. He sent me presents. He wanted me, and you did something to him. You tricked him. That’s the only reason a man like Paul would have anything to do with you.”

“Get over yourself, if that’s even possible. You only want Paul because he doesn’t want you. Well, tough. Deal with it. Just leave me the hell alone. Go home.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“That’s right.” Gwen went to her couch, but thought better about sitting down. She had the feeling she might need to physically show Autumn the door. “I don’t want to know anything about you. I haven’t got the five minutes to spare.”

“What five minutes? What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Whatever your problems are, they’ve got nothing to do with me. I haven’t spoken to Paul since the party. Satisfied?”

“No. Whatever you did, you need to fix it. He’s horrible now. Everyone we know thinks he’s sick. In the head, okay? He’s got some kind of screw loose, and you did that to him.”

Gwen felt something she hadn’t in a long time. She shouldn’t be glad Paul was miserable, but there it was. Naturally, she wasn’t going to let Autumn see that, either. “Can’t help you. I have no interest in Paul Bennet. No idea what he’s doing. If you’re smart, you’ll let it go, too.”

“I always knew you were weird, but I never thought you’d be this selfish. Even Faith thought you’d be willing to help. Wait till I tell her what a bitch you’re being.”

“Tell Faith whatever you like. Now get out. I mean it. The discussion is over.”

“I hope you get what you deserve,” Autumn said as she marched to the door.

“Same back atya,” Gwen whispered as she locked up.

Everyone thought Paul was sick? In the head? Funny, pretty much everyone she knew thought the same thing was wrong with her. Only her friends were observant enough to know that she was suffering from heartbreak.

It was unthinkable to her “loving” family that Paul could have been attracted to her for being her.

How could she blame them, though, when it was still mostly unthinkable to her?

He’d been so much of what she wanted in a significant other. And yet, unless she was able to picture them living a real life, it was no good at all, was it?

She headed for the bedroom and flopped onto the bed. This was ridiculous. She simply couldn’t go on this way. Something had to be done, something drastic.

Why on earth did she still allow her family to get to her? Why was she even here? Just because she always had been? Pasadena was great, but it wasn’t the only place. She’d always wondered about living in Chicago or New York. Rockland-Stewart had offices all over the country. There was nothing preventing her from putting in for a transfer.

Yes, it would mean leaving her friends. That would be hard, especially leaving Holly. What would she do without Holly to turn to?

Wait. There were telephones, the Internet. Airplanes. They could still be in touch, as much as ever. It would be different, but different didn’t mean bad.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. She’d move, somewhere she didn’t know a soul. No suburbs for her, either. She was a city girl and she wanted the liveliness and adventure a big city offered. It would take a long time to discover a new town, a new state. Why the hell not?

Then she wouldn’t have to make excuses for not going to family gatherings. Everyone would be relieved. She’d miss watching her nieces and nephews grow up, but hey, once a year, maybe at Christmas? That would be plenty.

She’d be so busy in her new life she wouldn’t have time to think about Paul. It was a brilliant solution. She’d find a book club, a sports bar, and while she’d never stop loving her Dodgers, she’d find other teams to root for, too.

With more enthusiasm than she’d had for over a month, she went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. There would be a million things to do to get ready. A transfer depended on openings in the company, but she knew they’d work hard to place her. Then there’d be housing to look for. She’d been saving for a house for a hell of a long time, so she’d be able to make a substantial down payment. No, the finances wouldn’t stop her.

Nothing would.

Thousands of miles away, she wouldn’t wish for every call to be from him. She’d stop looking for him in crowds. Monday nights wouldn’t be torture, and she’d learn to love baseball with her old joie de vivre.

If she was lucky, she’d quit dreaming about him. It seemed too much to hope for, but then she was still here. At the scene of the crime.