The Apartment (13 page)

“I love you too, Alex,” she said softly, and a moment later she was purring in his arms like a kitten. The next thing he knew, it was six o'clock, the alarm had gone off, and it was time to go to work. They were on the same schedule that day. She showered first, and then made him breakfast while he showered and dressed. She had it on the table for him when he walked out of her bedroom. The others were all still asleep. She and Alex had to be at work by seven, and they were on duty until ten that night.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her. Staying with her had worked out better than he had expected. No one made an issue of it, and he felt as though he fit right in. Max had spent the night too, and the loft was big enough for all of them, especially with different schedules. Sasha shared a bathroom with Abby, who wouldn't be up before noon. “I feel like I'm in college again,” he said grinning, except that he was there with the woman he loved, not a bunch of guys he barely knew.

“Sometimes I feel like that too. But I think I'd be lonely having my own place.” She had been there with all of them for five years, and she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

They left the apartment quietly at a quarter to seven, and he drove to the hospital and put the car in the garage. And then they walked into the hospital together, kissed, and wished each other a good day. Sasha was smiling when she got to the nurses' station, and looked at the chalkboard on the wall to see who was in active labor, who had delivered, when, and how many patients they had.

“Full house,” she commented to the nurses.

“You can say that again. We delivered six babies on Halloween. Two C's and four vag. The place was hopping all night. Lucky for you you were off.” She smiled and nodded. It had been more than lucky. It had been their honeymoon. She grabbed one of the charts and went in to check on one of the women who had delivered the night before.

She checked on four of them, and then Alex showed up with a cappuccino for her, and hurried back to work.

“What did you do to deserve that?” one of the nurses teased her. She had seen them together before, and Alex looked smitten with her.

“You don't want to know,” Sasha said with a guilty grin, and they all laughed.

Alex called his parents about their Thanksgiving plans. His parents always hosted dinner, he and his brother were there, and a few friends of his parents who had nowhere else to go.

“I'd like to bring a friend with me, if that's okay with you,” he told his mother on the phone, and she immediately made it clear that any friend of his or Ben's was welcome. He had brought friends home from college several times, but no one since and never a woman. This was a first for him. Ben had had a girlfriend for two years, and she had joined them, but she and Ben had broken up that summer. So now it was his turn, and he had suspected his parents would be welcoming about it, but he still wanted to give them the courtesy of asking before he said anything to Sasha.

“Who is it? Is it someone we know?” his mother asked him.

“No, it's someone I'm going out with. Her name is Sasha Hartman, she's a resident at NYU too, and she's from Atlanta.” It was as much information as he would give her.

“She sounds interesting,” his mother said pleasantly. Helen Scott loved her boys, and always welcomed their friends warmly.

“Can she stay with us, Mom?” He felt like a kid again as he asked.

“Of course. You don't think I'd make her stay at a hotel, do you? And everyone's grown up now. She can stay in your room, if you want her to, the way Angela stayed with Ben. I'm going to miss her.” It was an all-male household, except for her, and she had always missed having a daughter. And neither of her sons was married, so she had no daughters-in-law either. She had thought that Ben would marry his girlfriend, but she had had serious issues with his demanding schedule as an orthopedic surgeon, and had ended the relationship because of it. And even his mother realized that Ben was a little obsessive about his work, and he took too many patients, but he loved what he did, and Helen had told him that the right woman would understand it, and apparently Angela wasn't it for him. But he had been very upset about the breakup, and had only just started dating again recently, but there was no one important in his life yet.

Alex talked to her for a few minutes, and was excited to speak to Sasha that afternoon when they left work together. He had been staying at the apartment with her.

“I called my mother today,” he told her as he drove home with her. “I wanted to clear it with her, before I asked you, and she's delighted. I'd like you to come home with me for Thanksgiving,” he said, smiling at her. And then he added gently, “You're the first woman I've ever taken home.” She leaned over and kissed him, and she was thrilled.

“I'm very touched and flattered.” He told her he was proud of her, and couldn't wait for her to meet them. And she was excited about it. She knew it was a big deal to him, and it was to her too.

“Should I bring Valentina?” she teased him, and he groaned at the image.

“I'm not sure they're quite ready for her yet,” he said as Sasha laughed at him.

“Neither is our family, and we're related to her,” Sasha said simply. She hadn't been planning to go home anyway, so she didn't need to explain it to her mother. Going home for holidays now was just too unpleasant, being pulled between her parents while they competed with each other. She didn't enjoy her stepmother, although she was a sweet woman, and her mother was just too difficult and hadn't done Thanksgiving dinner in years. She went to a friend's house every year, and was happy not to be bothered, so this was going to be the first family Thanksgiving Sasha had had in a long time. She was going to Chicago with Alex, and it sounded wonderful to her.

“I may have to buy a dress,” Sasha said, thinking about it as they walked into the apartment. “I don't think I have the right thing to wear.” Or she could borrow something from one of her roommates, which she did often. Abby was too small, and shorter than all of them, but Morgan and Claire were about the same size, and Valentina, which would have been exotic, but definitely not the right look.

“My father and brother are doctors. You can wear your scrubs and Crocs if you want to.” He grinned at her. He was ecstatic that she was coming home with him. And he wanted to show her all his favorite haunts in Chicago. It was going to be a fantastic weekend. Sasha called Oliver that night to tell him about her change of plans and that she wouldn't be at their Thanksgiving dinner, and he was happy for her.

George and Claire had their first fight two weeks before Thanksgiving, over a trade show she had to go to with Walter in Orlando. George wanted her to go to a black-tie dinner at the mayor's mansion, and she said she couldn't go.

“That's ridiculous,” George said to her over dinner at Le Bernadin, the finest fish restaurant in New York, and another of his favorite haunts. “Tell him you can't. I can't tell the mayor you won't come to dinner because you're selling shoes in Florida.” He made it sound like a Moroccan bazaar.

“And I can't tell Walter to sell his own ugly shoes because I'm having dinner with the mayor.”

“You don't even like the shoes he sells.”

“No, I don't, but it's my job.” It was the first time George had put pressure on her, but the dinner was important to him. The mayor and his wife were clients, and he didn't want to offend them. But she didn't want to offend her boss. Walter was difficult enough as it was, and he would read about the evening in the papers. He was scanning them daily now for mention of her, so he could complain that she was out partying too much to do her job. She wasn't going to add fuel to the fire by refusing to go to an important trade show with him, even if it sounded insignificant to George.

“You don't even like your job,” he reminded her. “You want to quit.”

“That's true. But I don't want to get fired. It may sound tacky to you, but I need the money, and this is what I do.”

“I didn't say it was tacky, I said it was ridiculous to cater to that ogre you work for. Let him sell his own damn shoes in Orlando.”

“This is what he pays me for.” There was no way to resolve the argument unless she agreed to go with George, and she couldn't do that, whether George understood it or not. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of since the beginning, that he would try to force her to quit her job at some point, and then she'd be dependent on him. That was precisely what she didn't want, and surely not this early in the relationship, or even later on. She had to have the ability to work and earn her salary, whether he liked it or not. She was sorry to miss the party with him, but if she didn't want to get fired, she had no choice. And she didn't want to give up her job with Arthur Adams until she had another one, hopefully a better one, which she wouldn't get if she got fired from the one she had. She knew that George understood the concept, he just didn't like her saying no. The word was unfamiliar to him.

They finished dinner in silence, and he took her home to Hell's Kitchen in the Ferrari in a huff, and went back to his apartment after he dropped her off. He never stayed at the loft with her anyway, but he didn't invite her to stay with him uptown that night. He was mad. And she held her ground. But she was depressed the next day about the argument, and she looked glum at her desk, when a messenger walked in carrying an enormous bouquet of roses with a card that said, “I'm sorry I was such a jerk last night. Go to Orlando. I love you. G.” She smiled the minute she saw it and called him immediately, and thanked him for being understanding.

“I'm sorry, Claire. I was just disappointed. I wanted to go with you and show you off.”

“I'd much rather be with you than in Orlando,” she said honestly, and then noticed that Walter was standing there, listening to her, and she told George she had to get off. This was a headache she did not need.

“So are you coming to Orlando or not?” her boss asked her angrily.

“Of course I'm coming.”

“Then what are the flowers about?”

“He loves me, that's all,” she said nervously.

“You're going to wind up marrying him and quitting,” he said, looking sour.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she said firmly, “except to Orlando with you.”

“Fine,” he said gruffly, and stalked out of her office. She always felt like she was on thin ice with him now, but better with him than with George. And she was relieved that they had resolved their first big argument nicely, and he had backed down.

And that night, George told her he was taking her away for the weekend, and it was a surprise. He told her to pack summer clothes, and she couldn't wait to find out where they were going. He was a good secret keeper, and she didn't find out till Saturday morning when they got on the plane. He was taking her to the Turks and Caicos. He had told her to “think beach,” so she had brought the right clothes. He had rented a private villa with their own pool, at the best resort on the island. He still felt guilty about their fight and wanted to make it up to her, which he did. They hardly put their clothes on all weekend, and spent most of it in bed, and the rest lying naked by their private pool, making love in it, or having dinners served on their private patio at night. It was a fabulous weekend.

And two days after she got back, she went to Orlando with Walter, in coach on a commercial flight, to stay at a Holiday Inn, and George went to the mayor's black-tie dinner. She called him as soon as she checked in to the hotel.

“You've ruined me,” she teased him. “Do you know what it's like to fly coach again and stay at the Holiday Inn after our incredible weekend? I feel like Cinderella after the ball, with no glass slipper. This sucks.” He laughed at her and told her it served her right for not coming to the dinner with him. But he also said he missed her, and couldn't wait for her to come back in two days.

The trade show was as boring and tedious as ever, and exhausting, and George took her to dinner the night she got back. They had dinner at Max's, and he told her all about the dinner she had missed. He had sat next to the mayor's wife and Lady Gaga, and said he'd had a boring time without her, which was hard to imagine and flattering, given who was there. He wasn't angry at her anymore, just happy to have her back in New York. And the following week he was going to Aspen, and she was going to San Francisco for Thanksgiving with her parents. She hated to leave him for that too, but she knew he'd have fun on the slopes, and he had friends there. He went several times a year, and was an expert skier. He was going to have a lot more fun than she was, without a doubt.

On Tuesday night before the Thanksgiving weekend, George had their own Thanksgiving dinner catered by “21” for them at his apartment, and the meal was delicious, better than most Thanksgivings. The turkey wasn't dry, the stuffing was perfect, there was cranberry jelly, mashed potatoes, an assortment of vegetables, and pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie for dessert, with whipped cream.

“I thought we should have our own Thanksgiving dinner, since we won't be together,” he said lovingly to Claire. “I'm sorry I'm such a no-show about holidays. They just upset me, and Christmas is even worse. It's the worst day of the year for me. It brings up all my old stuff. I'd rather just ignore it, and ski my ass off in Aspen, but I'm going to miss you,” he said, and kissed her. And after dinner they went to bed. They had agreed that she wouldn't spend the night, since he was leaving too early the next morning. He was planning to get up at five and leave the apartment by six. But he wanted to make love to her before they both left.

“I want to give you something to remember when you're in San Francisco,” he teased her. And he made it a memorable evening for her. They made love as passionately as they had the first time. He was an incredible lover, and she was learning a lot from him. He was patient and gentle and had learned her body well, and everything that pleasured her, and at other times he was so passionate he was almost rough, but everything he did to her made her body keen for him again and again. He made love to her twice, and the second time, he lay in bed looking at her afterward, and said something that touched her deeply.

“I want to have babies with you one day, Claire. Please tell me you'll be the mother of my children.” He looked so serious when he said it that she didn't have the heart to refuse him, and for the first time in her life she nodded and said yes, and meant it. And he clung to her after that like a drowning child. “I love you so much,” he said to her, and then regretfully they got up, and he drove her home, and kissed her for a long time before she got out. “I'm going to miss you. Take good care of yourself. See you Sunday.” She walked into the building and felt like she was on a cloud, remembering what he'd said. It was already two o'clock, and he had to get up in three hours. It was going to be a short night for him. But he could sleep on the plane on the way to Colorado. Her flight was leaving at ten o'clock so she had to get up early too.

It had been a beautiful evening, he had seen to that, and she kept thinking about what he had said to her after they made love the second time, about wanting to have children with her. It was not something she had ever longed for, but she could see herself having children with him now, and now it was her hope too. He hadn't proposed to her that night, but he had said he wanted her to be the mother of his children, which was almost the same thing. Her future was linked with his now. And she knew it was going to be a beautiful life with him. Of that she was sure. He was someone you could count on. He was the kind of man one should marry, not like her father. George was her dream come true.