EVER SO SLOWLY, I touched the tube to my parted lips and glided on the Ruby Red. I had always lacked the patience for lipstick and only used it for special occasions. Next came a translucent lip gloss that left threads of goop as I smoothed my lips together. I drew back slightly from the mirror to admire my work.
Perfectly coiffed hair, teased and styled into a long bob, floated just at my shoulders, every shiny brown lock suspiciously cooperating. In the trash laid the scattered teeth of yet another broken comb. I’d wrestled especially long with my tangles tonight, but looked particularly poised as a result; so much so, that if one thing were to tremble, everything else would come tumbling down. Or so it seemed. In that moment, I caught Bill’s gaze in the reflection, his normally mild eyes watching me intently. I quickly forgot that feeling of unease.
“You look good,” he said, admiring my emerald green dress.
“Your favorite color.”
“Because it matches your eyes.” I picked at a mascara smear on the mirror with my fingernail. “Do we have to go tonight?” he asked.
“What?” I’d successfully chipped off the mark, but now I was faced with the messy smudge of a fingerprint.
“Tonight. Let’s stay in.”
“Everyone’s going to be there.” I tossed makeup products back into the drawer and wiped the counter with my palm. “People pay good money for these tickets, babe.”
“Whose idea was this again?”
“Andrew’s firm got tickets for their clients. Not everyone could make it, so he invited us.”
“But,” he began. A quick glare silenced him. He held up his palms in defeat. I turned back to my reflection.
I checked my eyeliner one last time to make sure it was even. “I talked to my dad today. He’ll be in Chicago for a night next month and wants to have dinner.”
Bill groaned and slumped in the doorway.
“What? You don’t want to go to the ballet, you don’t want to have dinner with my father . . . . It’s only one night.”
“And you’re so thrilled when my parents drive in.”
“Touché.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and pushed a gold stud through my ear. “Well, you don’t have to come, but I know he’d like to see you.”
“Sure he would, where else does he get free legal advice?”
“Oh, please. He has plenty of corporate lawyer friends.”
“Not for work, Olivia. For his divorce from Gina. Lawyer friends don’t put up with that shit, they charge you for it.”
“Well, get used to it, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere. I’m sure if you ever need advice on how to win over girls half your age, he’d be happy to help.”
“Half my age?” he repeated as he came up behind me and encircled my waist. A piece of brown hair fell over his eye. He was overdue for a haircut. “Are you trying to get me locked up? I’d say I’ve got my hands full married to a twenty seven-year-old.”
“Bill,” I whined, swatting his hands away. “You’ll wrinkle my dress, and I’m finally ready.”
“Yes, darling,” he said with a sly smile, backing away. “I’ll pull the car around.” I followed him out but pivoted back, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped the smudge away.
~
We arrived at the performance minutes before curtain. Teetering in my heels, I clung to Bill’s arm as we scoured the crowd for familiar faces. Sophistication perfumed the lobby, as if it had been bottled and sold to Chicago’s elite. Smartly dressed women carefully stepped down scarlet-carpeted steps, passing beneath elaborate chandeliers that cast shadowy corners.
“There they are,” Bill said. From behind, my two best friends, registering at just a few inches over 5 feet, could almost be sisters. Gretchen, in a revealing pink dress and boosted by spiky heels, gestured wildly to the group around her. Her long platinum hair bounced in signature curls with each exaggerated movement.
Next to her, Lucy dodged Gretchen’s flailing limbs, anticipating her every movement. She wore a boat-neck black dress, and her short brown hair was fashioned into a perfect chignon.
Her boyfriend, Andrew, stood off to the side, wringing a program. Upon spotting us, he grinned toothily and beckoned us over. “Sorry, Gretch,” he interrupted. “Everyone, this is Lucy’s other best friend, Liv Germaine, and her husband Bill Wilson.”
“What, now I’m the other best friend?” I joked, shaking hands with someone. “I only introduced them, you know.”
Lucy looked up at me with big brown eyes before hugging me. “Look, we’re the same height now,” she said, showing off uncharacteristically high shoes.
“I don’t know, shrimp,” Bill said. “Liv’s still got some inches on you.”
“Anyway,” Gretchen interjected impatiently, “the plane lands, and I rush to the station, just barely making the train. Since it’s now one in the morning and I’ve been traveling for fourteen hours, I immediately pass out. When I wake up, the—what are they called—stewardesses?—she says, ‘Welcome to Chile!’”
“Chile!” one of the women cried.
“I’d gotten on the wrong train, slept through the entire ride, and ended up in Santiago.”
Everyone laughed. I politely joined in, though I’d heard the story twice before.
“To make matters worse, it was fifty-something degrees outside, and I was wearing shorts and a tank top.”
The man next to me guffawed loudly. He was the only one who’d been introduced without a partner; Gretchen’s lure was cast.
“Oh, I think it’s time,” Lucy said when the lights pulsed.
The single man sidled up to Gretchen as we made our way to our seats. “What do you do that you can take off to Chile whenever you like?”
“Entertainment PR,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Bill whispered, reading my mind. Gretchen turned and shot us a dirty look when I giggled. “Uh oh, Windex is mad,” he said with a playful smile. Her face softened. She liked Bill’s nickname for her. When I’d introduced them, he’d said hers were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
Once we were seated, he leaned over so only I could hear. “Are you familiar with the tale of Odette and Prince Siegfried?” He passed me a program. “Swan Lake. Just another love story gone wrong.” He laughed at my expression. “I probably never mentioned my parents took me as a teenager. Another thing to give me culture.”
The lights dimmed, and Bill sat back, shifting to get comfortable. His long legs knocked against the seat in front of us multiple times before its occupant turned to raise her eyebrows. I suppressed a laugh just as the conductor lifted his arms.
Before long, the stage was awhirl with white tulle, hard muscles, prettily pink slippers. And those pink slippers, which curled and arched and lengthened unnaturally, seemed perfectly untouched. Everything about the ballet appeared smooth and blemish-free, from the dancers to the patrons. The graceful precision was one thing, but I was floored by the flawlessness of the performance. Everything in life should be so clean. When the curtain fell for intermission, I clapped gleefully with the crowd.
We spilled into the lobby, excitedly reviewing what we’d just seen as we maneuvered. Bill and Andrew left to get drinks as Gretchen, Lucy, and I broke away from the others, keeping close through a room brimming with people.
“I can’t believe my mother let me quit ballet when I was seven,” Lucy said once we’d found a semi-open spot. “I could’ve been a star.”
“I don’t think it’s as easy as that,” I said.
She shook her head. “I could have been a professional ballerina.” Gretchen and I laughed at her sincere expression. “Fine, don’t believe me,” she said. “I’m going to the restroom.”
“Oh, me too,” Gretchen chimed. “Liv?”
“I’ll wait here for the guys.”
I craned my neck above the crowd to search for the bar, where I expected Bill would loom over everyone. My gaze lingered on different people, noting how their stiff, deliberate movements countered the elegance of the dancers on stage. To me, they not only seemed like strangers, but like aliens. Or maybe I was the one who didn’t belong.
Since the abrupt divorce of my parents when I was a teenager, I’d never figured out exactly where I was supposed to be. Large crowds heightened that insecurity and left me feeling vulnerable. It was an unfortunate ability of mine, feeling spectacularly alone in a crowd, even when surrounded by friends and family.
I had the sensation of being watched seconds before I met a man’s unfamiliar pair of eyes across the room. They were dark, narrowed intensely in my direction as if he were trying to place me. Everything slowed around me, but my heartbeat whipped into a rapid flutter.
Our gaze held a moment longer than it should have. My body buzzed. My pounding heart echoed in my ears. It wasn’t his immense, tall frame or darkly handsome face that struck me, but a draw so strong that it didn’t break, even when I blinked away.
A woman bumped my shoulder as she passed. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Bill waved as he wound through the crowd.
When I looked back, the man loomed closer than necessary. Something about the lean in his posture was intimate and easy, yet the space between us was physically hot. Fire under my skin. I reminded myself to breathe.
Hair blackest black, short and unruly but long enough to run my hands through. His suntanned complexion appeared natural from time spent outdoors. Strong carved-from-marble facial features were softened by long, unblinking lashes. Involuntarily, I drew a sharp breath at the magnitude of his beauty.
A woman’s voice cut into my consciousness and he turned, giving me the opportunity to regain control. In one swift movement I ducked away, exhaling audibly. Bill and Andrew were there then, shoving a wineglass at me as I shielded myself with their bodies.
“Where are the girls?”
“You like Pinot right?”
“What do you think of the show?”
My attempt to speak was just a noise.
“I’ll take that,” Gretchen said, intercepting the wine.
“The line for the bathroom isn’t bad if you have to go,” Lucy said. She touched my arm. “Liv, are you—”
“I think I will go to the restroom,” I said, backing away. I only just saw her puzzled expression as I turned to struggle through a crowd dense enough to suffocate. Or so it felt in that moment.
~
I could not remember what he looked like. Our exchange was a mere moment, but I had felt the shift.
After, as I sat in the theater, the velvety red seats that I had not much noticed before pricked at my exposed skin, causing me to shift uncontrollably. Because each time I sat still, his heat enveloped me again. As hard as I tried, I could not remember what he looked like. I could only feel him.
I forced myself to focus on the second half. A bewitching Odette mournfully enthralled the crowd as her story unfolded. Why did it feel as though she watched me between sequences?
Back in the lobby, I scanned the crowd for clues. Hints. That man, who he was. To both my relief and disappointment, I did not see him again. I tried to forget the feeling while we dined and drank into the night.
~
The heavy door of our Lincoln Park apartment threatened to slam behind me, but at the last second, I caught the knob and eased it shut. I yawned, hanging my coat and sliding out of my pumps. Bill flipped on the television set in the next room while I sorted through mail, tossing half of it into the trash. On the brown polyester couch his mother had given us some years ago, I found him in his boxers, languidly watching replays of the basketball game he’d grudgingly missed.
Three glasses of red wine coursed through my veins. I stripped off my emerald dress in one sinuous motion and let it drop onto the floor. When he didn’t look up, I shimmied over and settled myself onto his lap.
“Hi,” I said in my sultriest voice. His hand righted a stray strand of hair as he glanced between the screen and me. I wet my lips and kissed him full on the mouth. I’d been humming with electricity since intermission and was impatient for human contact.
“Well, well,” he said when we broke. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s late. Take me to bed.”
His eyebrow rose, and his mouth popped open as if connected by an invisible string. He looked about to protest and then relaxed as he thought better of it.
In an uncharacteristically graceful motion he stood. With my body secured to his, he carried me to the mattress. Fingertips tenderly caressed the outsides of my thighs as he hovered over me.
“Shit,” I said, just as his face dipped. I sat up in a panic. “I forgot to pick up condoms.”
“It’s fine.”
My brows furrowed. “It is not fine. Not while I’m not on birth control.”
He sighed, annoyed. “Come on, just this once.”
“Nope. You know how I feel about no condom.”
“There’s one in the kitchen drawer,” he said, rolling his eyes. I slid out from underneath him and shuffled to the kitchen. I rifled through the cluttered drawer until I found one in the back. “Liv,” he called impatiently.
I checked the expiration date and ran back, jumping onto the bed. “I’m sorry, babe, where were we?”
Frown lines faded as he propped himself up on long, wiry arms. I touched his pecs, trailing my fingers down to a soft midsection while goose bumps sprang to attention across his skin.
“My, my, Mrs. Wilson,” he said. The designation always made me think of Bill’s mom, but I’d managed to control my grimace over the years. It remained one of the reasons I hadn’t officially changed my surname. “What big green eyes you have,” he continued, touching his lips just above my cheekbone. “And such pretty blonde hair,” he added, brushing a lock from my forehead. His hips ground against me in anticipation. I reached up and ran my hand through his floppy brown hair, cocking my head to the side.
“Not blonde, just plain brown,” I said with a pout.
“What?” he asked with feigned surprise. “You must be colorblind. I see some blonde strands in there.”
“You just want to tell people you married a blonde.”
“Agree to disagree, then.” He smiled. It creased his adorably crooked nose. He loved to say he’d broken it during one-on-one, but the truth was that it was just naturally that way.
He unhooked my bra swiftly, gently cupping my breasts in each of his hands. His fingers were long. I didn’t quite fill them up. From the living room, the unmistakable sounds of a heated basketball game blared from the television.
The motions were familiar. His touch had become defter, more confident, over time. And his usually awkward nature became more fluid. He groaned my name as he pushed himself into me, pulling my hips closer. I echoed his movements, my arousal growing with his satisfaction. I watched beads of sweat form on his brow, more apparent when his face screwed up with pleasure. He didn’t kiss me again, but I’d become accustomed to that. Making out was for teenagers.
I inhaled his natural scent, enhanced by a salty concoction of unwashed hair and fresh perspiration; it was always sharper when we were making love. I felt a twinge inside and sighed softly, but then it was gone. It wasn’t long before he came, squeezing his eyes shut as he called out and collapsed onto me.
“Sorry,” he breathed into my ear after a moment. “Do you want—”
“It’s fine,” I reassured him, suddenly tired from the wine. “It was nice.”
It took him less than two minutes to fall asleep; I knew because I often watched the clock as I waited. I untangled myself from his clutches and tiptoed out of the room.
Once the apartment was dark and still, and I’d washed my face of the day, I returned to cocoon myself in the soft sheets. He stirred and reached for me, but I expertly dodged his grasp. I’d had to learn to find the comfort in postcoital cuddling. I was always the one left with tingling limbs and uncomfortable sweating as I willed myself to sleep.
A twinge. Though the sex was comfortable and good, a twinge wasn’t much of anything. I let my head roll to the side to look at my husband. At one point he’d wanted my orgasm as much as I did, but it was the one thing I couldn’t give him. There were times when we’d been close, when the stars and the body parts had aligned, and I’d shuddered in response. But when it came time for the grand finale, I’d buckled under the pressure.
Bill had found comfort in the fact that it wasn’t just him. I’d been with other men before him, mostly in college, but despite my efforts, had yet to find my slice of Nirvana. I couldn’t find comfort in that, though. To me, it was my eternal flaw and as a wife, my greatest inadequacy. If things were the other way around, could I live with the fact that I couldn’t pleasure Bill?
I was happy, though. I had other ways of getting myself off when necessary. I had my husband, who loved me in spite of everything. My life was pretty much as perfect as a night of good friends, wine, and sex. I lay in bed and watched the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Yes, I was happy.
Perfectly coiffed hair, teased and styled into a long bob, floated just at my shoulders, every shiny brown lock suspiciously cooperating. In the trash laid the scattered teeth of yet another broken comb. I’d wrestled especially long with my tangles tonight, but looked particularly poised as a result; so much so, that if one thing were to tremble, everything else would come tumbling down. Or so it seemed. In that moment, I caught Bill’s gaze in the reflection, his normally mild eyes watching me intently. I quickly forgot that feeling of unease.
“You look good,” he said, admiring my emerald green dress.
“Your favorite color.”
“Because it matches your eyes.” I picked at a mascara smear on the mirror with my fingernail. “Do we have to go tonight?” he asked.
“What?” I’d successfully chipped off the mark, but now I was faced with the messy smudge of a fingerprint.
“Tonight. Let’s stay in.”
“Everyone’s going to be there.” I tossed makeup products back into the drawer and wiped the counter with my palm. “People pay good money for these tickets, babe.”
“Whose idea was this again?”
“Andrew’s firm got tickets for their clients. Not everyone could make it, so he invited us.”
“But,” he began. A quick glare silenced him. He held up his palms in defeat. I turned back to my reflection.
I checked my eyeliner one last time to make sure it was even. “I talked to my dad today. He’ll be in Chicago for a night next month and wants to have dinner.”
Bill groaned and slumped in the doorway.
“What? You don’t want to go to the ballet, you don’t want to have dinner with my father . . . . It’s only one night.”
“And you’re so thrilled when my parents drive in.”
“Touché.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and pushed a gold stud through my ear. “Well, you don’t have to come, but I know he’d like to see you.”
“Sure he would, where else does he get free legal advice?”
“Oh, please. He has plenty of corporate lawyer friends.”
“Not for work, Olivia. For his divorce from Gina. Lawyer friends don’t put up with that shit, they charge you for it.”
“Well, get used to it, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere. I’m sure if you ever need advice on how to win over girls half your age, he’d be happy to help.”
“Half my age?” he repeated as he came up behind me and encircled my waist. A piece of brown hair fell over his eye. He was overdue for a haircut. “Are you trying to get me locked up? I’d say I’ve got my hands full married to a twenty seven-year-old.”
“Bill,” I whined, swatting his hands away. “You’ll wrinkle my dress, and I’m finally ready.”
“Yes, darling,” he said with a sly smile, backing away. “I’ll pull the car around.” I followed him out but pivoted back, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped the smudge away.
~
We arrived at the performance minutes before curtain. Teetering in my heels, I clung to Bill’s arm as we scoured the crowd for familiar faces. Sophistication perfumed the lobby, as if it had been bottled and sold to Chicago’s elite. Smartly dressed women carefully stepped down scarlet-carpeted steps, passing beneath elaborate chandeliers that cast shadowy corners.
“There they are,” Bill said. From behind, my two best friends, registering at just a few inches over 5 feet, could almost be sisters. Gretchen, in a revealing pink dress and boosted by spiky heels, gestured wildly to the group around her. Her long platinum hair bounced in signature curls with each exaggerated movement.
Next to her, Lucy dodged Gretchen’s flailing limbs, anticipating her every movement. She wore a boat-neck black dress, and her short brown hair was fashioned into a perfect chignon.
Her boyfriend, Andrew, stood off to the side, wringing a program. Upon spotting us, he grinned toothily and beckoned us over. “Sorry, Gretch,” he interrupted. “Everyone, this is Lucy’s other best friend, Liv Germaine, and her husband Bill Wilson.”
“What, now I’m the other best friend?” I joked, shaking hands with someone. “I only introduced them, you know.”
Lucy looked up at me with big brown eyes before hugging me. “Look, we’re the same height now,” she said, showing off uncharacteristically high shoes.
“I don’t know, shrimp,” Bill said. “Liv’s still got some inches on you.”
“Anyway,” Gretchen interjected impatiently, “the plane lands, and I rush to the station, just barely making the train. Since it’s now one in the morning and I’ve been traveling for fourteen hours, I immediately pass out. When I wake up, the—what are they called—stewardesses?—she says, ‘Welcome to Chile!’”
“Chile!” one of the women cried.
“I’d gotten on the wrong train, slept through the entire ride, and ended up in Santiago.”
Everyone laughed. I politely joined in, though I’d heard the story twice before.
“To make matters worse, it was fifty-something degrees outside, and I was wearing shorts and a tank top.”
The man next to me guffawed loudly. He was the only one who’d been introduced without a partner; Gretchen’s lure was cast.
“Oh, I think it’s time,” Lucy said when the lights pulsed.
The single man sidled up to Gretchen as we made our way to our seats. “What do you do that you can take off to Chile whenever you like?”
“Entertainment PR,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Bill whispered, reading my mind. Gretchen turned and shot us a dirty look when I giggled. “Uh oh, Windex is mad,” he said with a playful smile. Her face softened. She liked Bill’s nickname for her. When I’d introduced them, he’d said hers were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
Once we were seated, he leaned over so only I could hear. “Are you familiar with the tale of Odette and Prince Siegfried?” He passed me a program. “Swan Lake. Just another love story gone wrong.” He laughed at my expression. “I probably never mentioned my parents took me as a teenager. Another thing to give me culture.”
The lights dimmed, and Bill sat back, shifting to get comfortable. His long legs knocked against the seat in front of us multiple times before its occupant turned to raise her eyebrows. I suppressed a laugh just as the conductor lifted his arms.
Before long, the stage was awhirl with white tulle, hard muscles, prettily pink slippers. And those pink slippers, which curled and arched and lengthened unnaturally, seemed perfectly untouched. Everything about the ballet appeared smooth and blemish-free, from the dancers to the patrons. The graceful precision was one thing, but I was floored by the flawlessness of the performance. Everything in life should be so clean. When the curtain fell for intermission, I clapped gleefully with the crowd.
We spilled into the lobby, excitedly reviewing what we’d just seen as we maneuvered. Bill and Andrew left to get drinks as Gretchen, Lucy, and I broke away from the others, keeping close through a room brimming with people.
“I can’t believe my mother let me quit ballet when I was seven,” Lucy said once we’d found a semi-open spot. “I could’ve been a star.”
“I don’t think it’s as easy as that,” I said.
She shook her head. “I could have been a professional ballerina.” Gretchen and I laughed at her sincere expression. “Fine, don’t believe me,” she said. “I’m going to the restroom.”
“Oh, me too,” Gretchen chimed. “Liv?”
“I’ll wait here for the guys.”
I craned my neck above the crowd to search for the bar, where I expected Bill would loom over everyone. My gaze lingered on different people, noting how their stiff, deliberate movements countered the elegance of the dancers on stage. To me, they not only seemed like strangers, but like aliens. Or maybe I was the one who didn’t belong.
Since the abrupt divorce of my parents when I was a teenager, I’d never figured out exactly where I was supposed to be. Large crowds heightened that insecurity and left me feeling vulnerable. It was an unfortunate ability of mine, feeling spectacularly alone in a crowd, even when surrounded by friends and family.
I had the sensation of being watched seconds before I met a man’s unfamiliar pair of eyes across the room. They were dark, narrowed intensely in my direction as if he were trying to place me. Everything slowed around me, but my heartbeat whipped into a rapid flutter.
Our gaze held a moment longer than it should have. My body buzzed. My pounding heart echoed in my ears. It wasn’t his immense, tall frame or darkly handsome face that struck me, but a draw so strong that it didn’t break, even when I blinked away.
A woman bumped my shoulder as she passed. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Bill waved as he wound through the crowd.
When I looked back, the man loomed closer than necessary. Something about the lean in his posture was intimate and easy, yet the space between us was physically hot. Fire under my skin. I reminded myself to breathe.
Hair blackest black, short and unruly but long enough to run my hands through. His suntanned complexion appeared natural from time spent outdoors. Strong carved-from-marble facial features were softened by long, unblinking lashes. Involuntarily, I drew a sharp breath at the magnitude of his beauty.
A woman’s voice cut into my consciousness and he turned, giving me the opportunity to regain control. In one swift movement I ducked away, exhaling audibly. Bill and Andrew were there then, shoving a wineglass at me as I shielded myself with their bodies.
“Where are the girls?”
“You like Pinot right?”
“What do you think of the show?”
My attempt to speak was just a noise.
“I’ll take that,” Gretchen said, intercepting the wine.
“The line for the bathroom isn’t bad if you have to go,” Lucy said. She touched my arm. “Liv, are you—”
“I think I will go to the restroom,” I said, backing away. I only just saw her puzzled expression as I turned to struggle through a crowd dense enough to suffocate. Or so it felt in that moment.
~
I could not remember what he looked like. Our exchange was a mere moment, but I had felt the shift.
After, as I sat in the theater, the velvety red seats that I had not much noticed before pricked at my exposed skin, causing me to shift uncontrollably. Because each time I sat still, his heat enveloped me again. As hard as I tried, I could not remember what he looked like. I could only feel him.
I forced myself to focus on the second half. A bewitching Odette mournfully enthralled the crowd as her story unfolded. Why did it feel as though she watched me between sequences?
Back in the lobby, I scanned the crowd for clues. Hints. That man, who he was. To both my relief and disappointment, I did not see him again. I tried to forget the feeling while we dined and drank into the night.
~
The heavy door of our Lincoln Park apartment threatened to slam behind me, but at the last second, I caught the knob and eased it shut. I yawned, hanging my coat and sliding out of my pumps. Bill flipped on the television set in the next room while I sorted through mail, tossing half of it into the trash. On the brown polyester couch his mother had given us some years ago, I found him in his boxers, languidly watching replays of the basketball game he’d grudgingly missed.
Three glasses of red wine coursed through my veins. I stripped off my emerald dress in one sinuous motion and let it drop onto the floor. When he didn’t look up, I shimmied over and settled myself onto his lap.
“Hi,” I said in my sultriest voice. His hand righted a stray strand of hair as he glanced between the screen and me. I wet my lips and kissed him full on the mouth. I’d been humming with electricity since intermission and was impatient for human contact.
“Well, well,” he said when we broke. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s late. Take me to bed.”
His eyebrow rose, and his mouth popped open as if connected by an invisible string. He looked about to protest and then relaxed as he thought better of it.
In an uncharacteristically graceful motion he stood. With my body secured to his, he carried me to the mattress. Fingertips tenderly caressed the outsides of my thighs as he hovered over me.
“Shit,” I said, just as his face dipped. I sat up in a panic. “I forgot to pick up condoms.”
“It’s fine.”
My brows furrowed. “It is not fine. Not while I’m not on birth control.”
He sighed, annoyed. “Come on, just this once.”
“Nope. You know how I feel about no condom.”
“There’s one in the kitchen drawer,” he said, rolling his eyes. I slid out from underneath him and shuffled to the kitchen. I rifled through the cluttered drawer until I found one in the back. “Liv,” he called impatiently.
I checked the expiration date and ran back, jumping onto the bed. “I’m sorry, babe, where were we?”
Frown lines faded as he propped himself up on long, wiry arms. I touched his pecs, trailing my fingers down to a soft midsection while goose bumps sprang to attention across his skin.
“My, my, Mrs. Wilson,” he said. The designation always made me think of Bill’s mom, but I’d managed to control my grimace over the years. It remained one of the reasons I hadn’t officially changed my surname. “What big green eyes you have,” he continued, touching his lips just above my cheekbone. “And such pretty blonde hair,” he added, brushing a lock from my forehead. His hips ground against me in anticipation. I reached up and ran my hand through his floppy brown hair, cocking my head to the side.
“Not blonde, just plain brown,” I said with a pout.
“What?” he asked with feigned surprise. “You must be colorblind. I see some blonde strands in there.”
“You just want to tell people you married a blonde.”
“Agree to disagree, then.” He smiled. It creased his adorably crooked nose. He loved to say he’d broken it during one-on-one, but the truth was that it was just naturally that way.
He unhooked my bra swiftly, gently cupping my breasts in each of his hands. His fingers were long. I didn’t quite fill them up. From the living room, the unmistakable sounds of a heated basketball game blared from the television.
The motions were familiar. His touch had become defter, more confident, over time. And his usually awkward nature became more fluid. He groaned my name as he pushed himself into me, pulling my hips closer. I echoed his movements, my arousal growing with his satisfaction. I watched beads of sweat form on his brow, more apparent when his face screwed up with pleasure. He didn’t kiss me again, but I’d become accustomed to that. Making out was for teenagers.
I inhaled his natural scent, enhanced by a salty concoction of unwashed hair and fresh perspiration; it was always sharper when we were making love. I felt a twinge inside and sighed softly, but then it was gone. It wasn’t long before he came, squeezing his eyes shut as he called out and collapsed onto me.
“Sorry,” he breathed into my ear after a moment. “Do you want—”
“It’s fine,” I reassured him, suddenly tired from the wine. “It was nice.”
It took him less than two minutes to fall asleep; I knew because I often watched the clock as I waited. I untangled myself from his clutches and tiptoed out of the room.
Once the apartment was dark and still, and I’d washed my face of the day, I returned to cocoon myself in the soft sheets. He stirred and reached for me, but I expertly dodged his grasp. I’d had to learn to find the comfort in postcoital cuddling. I was always the one left with tingling limbs and uncomfortable sweating as I willed myself to sleep.
A twinge. Though the sex was comfortable and good, a twinge wasn’t much of anything. I let my head roll to the side to look at my husband. At one point he’d wanted my orgasm as much as I did, but it was the one thing I couldn’t give him. There were times when we’d been close, when the stars and the body parts had aligned, and I’d shuddered in response. But when it came time for the grand finale, I’d buckled under the pressure.
Bill had found comfort in the fact that it wasn’t just him. I’d been with other men before him, mostly in college, but despite my efforts, had yet to find my slice of Nirvana. I couldn’t find comfort in that, though. To me, it was my eternal flaw and as a wife, my greatest inadequacy. If things were the other way around, could I live with the fact that I couldn’t pleasure Bill?
I was happy, though. I had other ways of getting myself off when necessary. I had my husband, who loved me in spite of everything. My life was pretty much as perfect as a night of good friends, wine, and sex. I lay in bed and watched the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Yes, I was happy.
“DON’T FORGET, tonight is dinner with Mack and Davena.” I rummaged in my purse for my building pass.
“Got it.” Bill tapped his head and pulled the car up to the curb. “I’ll meet you there. I can’t get out of the office any sooner.”
“I know, babe. That’s why I scheduled it for eight o’clock. Luckily the Donovans aren’t early birds.”
“No shit. They’re bigger partiers than us, which is depressing considering they’re twice our age.” He leaned down to peck me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks for taking me to work today,” I said and winked. “I owe you.”
“Love you,” he called as I shut the door behind me.
“Oh, hello, fancy girl!” I heard from behind me. “Can’t be bothered with public transportation like us common folk?”
“Hi, Jenny.”
“I love Fridays,” Jenny said as we walked to the front of the building. “They’re so full of possibility. Know what I love more than Fridays though? Gossip.”
“Where do you get all this?” I teased.
“Nothing gets by reception,” she said, deadpan. “Beman’s going to fire Diane.”
“What?” I asked, stopping suddenly. “He wouldn’t fire a senior editor with everything that’s coming up. How do you know?”
“I just know. I also know that he’s going to hire you in her place.”
“You’re joking,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. “But isn’t Lisa next in line? Are you sure?”
“Yep. Everyone knows you’ve been carrying Diane’s load for years.” I stiffened when she touched my arm. “Since we’re early, want to grab a coffee with me?”
“No,” I said with faux disappointment. “I want to get a head start on the day. I’ll see you up there?”
“Sure thing.”
I headed to the fourteenth floor and shook my head in disbelief. I’d been working hard under Diane for years but senior editor was a leap. Was I ready to step into her position? My dad’s voice was clear in my ear: Say yes to everything. Never pass up an opportunity.
Coming off the elevator, I almost ran right into the editor-in-chief and balked as I was hit with the smell of his self-tanner. His face pinched, deepening the many wrinkles around his eyes.
“Good morning, Olivia,” he said as we switched positions. “Nice to see you here early. Come by my office in an hour, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Beman,” I said as the elevator doors closed between us. I turned the corner to see Lisa through the glass doors, hovering over Jenny’s desk. Damn. I exhaled audibly and pushed through the doors to Chicago Metropolitan Magazine, giving her a quick wave. What time does she get here anyway?
I made sure to arrive at Beman’s office exactly one hour after our conversation. It was all I needed to decide what my answer would be. I waited in a seat while he tidied his desk. As always, his back was too straight, the part in his white hair too perfect.
“I fired Diane this morning,” he said suddenly. I didn’t have to fake my surprise because before I had a chance to respond, he continued. “I’ve been very pleased with your work as an editorial assistant. Not only do I think of you as an innovative editor, but your writing style fits the magazine very well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beman,” I said, masking my shock at the compliment. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”
“It’s not my opinion, it’s just the truth,” he said. “In any case, I’m moving Lisa into Diane’s position and giving you her title of associate editor.” My face heated with disappointment. I almost wished Jenny hadn’t mentioned anything, and I definitely wished I wouldn’t have to work as Lisa’s inferior.
“Mr. Beman, if I may—I’ve been working closely with Diane for almost three years now. I’m ready to step into her position.”
He eyed me carefully as I remained passive, watching him back. “As our associate editor, Lisa is technically next in line. You believe you’re ready, though?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s try this then. We’ll start with one of our most popular features: ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes.’ It’s got potential to be our top-selling issue of the year. Let’s entice advertisers with our best selection of people yet. Move into Diane’s office for now and work with Lisa on the article, along with whatever other assignments Diane had coming up. I’ll decide who I’d like to promote after the issue hits.”
I nodded and stood to shake his hand. “I’m in. Thank you, sir.” He sent me on my way with the news that Diane was already cleared out and then requested I send Lisa in to see him. She gave me a knowing, slightly triumphant smile as she glided past me to his office.
After moving what few items I had from my cubicle to Diane’s office, I excitedly picked up planning where she’d left off. In my enthusiasm, I decided to enlist the help of an intern.
“Looks like we’ll be working together on ‘Most Eligible,’” I said, poking my head into Lisa’s office on my way to the interns’ station. She only grunted, never taking her eyes off her computer screen. Lisa was nothing if not passive aggressive, which would be fine if her bitterness didn’t surface in other ways. “So I’ll come by this afternoon, and we can get started. I can catch you up on where Diane left off.”
She blinked up at me for a quick second. “Great, Liv. I’m crazy this afternoon, but I’ll try to squeeze you in.”
I gave her a tight smile, but she was already ignoring me again. Moments later I was staring at the back of a short blonde bob that ended in soft, pink tips. “Are you Serena?”
A young girl, who I guessed to be just out of college, turned suddenly. “Oh, yes. Mrs. Germaine? Or is it Ms. Germaine? Jenny wasn’t sure.” She glanced at my ring. “Or something else?”
“Whatever you like. Call me Liv if you want. About the article you e-mailed last night. You sent it awfully late.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, her light eyes widening. “I was feeling so, like, inspired, and I didn’t want to stop so I was up all night working on it. Next time I can wait to send it ‘til the morning.”
“No, don’t worry about that,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just glad you got it in early. Makes everyone’s job easier.”
“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her fingertips. “I thought I was in trouble.”
“Nope. Anyway, I liked the article, but there are some things I want fixed. I’ll e-mail my notes. In the meantime, Lisa and I will be taking over the annual ‘Most Eligible’ issue. I’d like it to be the best selection of bachelors and bachelorettes that we can possibly find. Can you start narrowing?”
“Sounds good,” Serena said as she made notes on a yellow pad. “How do I know what to look for? Like, looks-wise or . . . like . . . occupations?”
I gave her a tense smile, wondering if I’d given instructions to the right person. I made a mental note to follow up later. “Grab issues from the last few years to get an idea of what we’re looking for. I know they’ve weeded out people already, but this year I want the absolute best options out there. No friends of friends or relatives. Set up interviews with the top picks so Lisa and I can decide from there.”
“K,” she said. Even though it was just a letter, her voice wavered, and her eyebrows met in the middle.
“I was an intern once too.” I gave her my best attempt at a reassuring face. “You’ll figure it out.”
~
“Hello, dear,” Mack said when I entered the restaurant that evening. I loved how his smiles deepened the wrinkles by his eyes because they were always genuine.
“Mack,” I said with a kiss on his cheek. I leaned over to his wife Davena.
“How are you, honey?” she asked, her down-home drawl a stark contrast to Mack’s clean British accent.
“Bill should be here any minute. He’s been at work late every night the past two weeks, but he’s on his way.”
“No problem,” Mack said. “Let’s sit and get a drink.” He indicated the hostess. I let them go ahead. Their hands never unlinked while they maneuvered through the restaurant.
“How’s work?” Davena asked once we were seated.
“Wonderful,” I said. “I just found out I’m up for a promotion. My colleague, Lisa, is more qualified on paper, but I know I can handle the position.”
“I knew you’d work your way up quickly,” Davena said. “I never put my stamp on anyone I don’t believe in.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. It was Davena’s recommendation that had secured me the internship years earlier.
“Don’t waste your energy on the competition,” she added, studying her menu. “If I know you, she’s the one who should be worried.”
“And your mother?” Mack asked. “How is she?”
“She’s well.”
“Anything in the works?”
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Isn’t there always?”
He grinned appreciatively. “I always tell everyone what an outstanding writer she is. Brilliant artist,” he mused. “I look forward to her next novel.”
“Well, she certainly has an artist’s temperament,” I muttered.
“You know that Max, from her first novel, was based on me? A sprightly British cad, come to university to terrorize the young ladies of the U.S. of A.”
“Of course she knows that Mack, you remind her incessantly,” Davena teased.
“Rubbish,” he said, sneaking me a devious smile. “She was quite the girl, your mother. Walked right into the university’s newspaper office and demanded they print her piece on corporate sexism. I knew then that we’d be great friends. No surprise she became editor of that paper soon after. A real go-getter, like our Liv here.” I frowned, and he laughed.
I spotted Bill through the diners and cringed when his elbow accidentally struck a woman in the head. The restaurant’s lighting turned his gold shirt mustard.
“I was here on time,” Bill said, breathing hard, “but parking is impossible.” He leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Congrats on the job opportunity.” He turned to Mack and Davena, dragging his chair from the table. “What’d I miss?”
“We were just reminiscing about old times,” Mack said. “Here, have some wine.”
“What’s new with you guys?” Bill asked. I looked at him gratefully. He knew how I hated to talk about ‘old times.’
“Well, Mack and I are headed on a last-minute trip to the Amalfi Coast, so we’ve been shopping ourselves silly.”
“Correction, she has been shopping herself silly,” Mack interrupted. “I’m just the human credit card.”
She waved him off. “I only needed a bathing suit that’d cover my new scar.” She pointed to her side. “No more bikinis for me,” she scowled, “just old lady one-pieces.” I eyed her petite but athletic body—she was the picture of health with olive skin and cropped, wavy blonde hair. Her fiery eyes were surpassed only by her sassy attitude.
Even with the discovery of her breast cancer three years earlier, I’d never seen her without a twinkle in her eye. Pity was not a word in her vocabulary, and I’d learned long ago that normalcy was the best medicine.
“You really should go see my best friend Lucy,” I said.
“Which one is Lucy?”
“Her college friend,” Davena said. “Try and keep up.”
“Liv and Lucy rushed the same sorority,” Bill said. “When they were accepted, they decided they liked each other better than any of the other girls and dropped out together.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Mack smiled, ever the romantic.
“She’s a stylist, right?” asked Davena.
“Yes, and she works just across the street from me. I’m sure she can help you find something that’s cute and conservative.”
Davena made a gagging noise. “I hate that word. Me, conservative? No, missy.”
“Why do you think she made me move from Dallas?” Mack joked.
“So can you take Liv on this vacation?” Bill asked, nodding in my direction. “This girl needs some sun.”
I pouted. “I’m not that bad,” I said, pushing up my sleeve as the table laughed.
“You stay out of the sun, hon,” Davena said. “Fair skin is in. Embrace it.”
I laughed and nodded. “Sure it is. Pale is all the rage.”
“Hey, Davena—get this. We just finished a case against a doctor who botched a mastectomy and nearly killed the woman.”
“That’s horrid, Bill. I don’t want to hear that.”
I almost rolled my eyes at Bill’s inept social skills.
“Really, dear, how’s mum?” Mack asked me with a lowered voice.
“I haven’t spoken to her much lately,” I confessed. “She says she’s working on a new book but won’t say what exactly. And since Dad no longer owes her alimony, she claims she’s broke. But between a successful career and my father’s support all those years, I just don’t see how that can be.” I found Mack’s company comforting. Because of their history, he knew my mother in a way Bill and my friends couldn’t. “Bill offered to lend her money, but I think it’s bad idea. And we really don’t have it to spare, since we’re house hunting.”
“Are you?” he asked, and clapped his hands once. “I’m so happy for you. You really are all grown up, little Liv. I still remember your first birthday—such a fabulous event your mother threw, and you, hardly able to enjoy it. She had that party for herself.”
“What’s so funny?” Davena asked when we both laughed.
“These two are house hunting.”
“Oh, you know Mack and I own quite a bit of property, so we’re nearly experts.”
Bill smiled proudly and launched into a recount of our progress. It was his favorite topic as of late, so I let him talk and nodded at all the right times. Davena was sure to interject when she disagreed with Bill, and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. If there’d been an ounce of religion in my household growing up, Mack and Davena would’ve been my godparents. They’d always been protective, and Davena, being a natural know-it-all, didn’t mind pointing out when Bill was wrong.
During dinner, I admired Mack and Davena’s easy interaction. They touched often, as if Mack was reassuring her of his presence. Once, when he thought we weren’t looking, Mack leaned in and kissed her between bites. She rolled her eyes playfully. I smiled at Bill, but he was looking at his phone.
When we’d settled the check, Mack said, “Don’t worry too much about your mother. Leanore’s always been able to take care of herself. Just remember that she may need emotional support more than she needs money.” He patted me on the back. His words rang true, but unfortunately, emotional support had never been my strong suit. “And if we can be of any help with the house hunt, just call.”
“Have a great trip,” Bill said as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. He draped his arm over my shoulders and waved as they walked away. “Hey,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Bad news. I have to go back to the office.”
“What?” I looked up at him. “It’s Friday night.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”
“It’s all right,” I said, running my hand down his long forearm. “I just don’t want you to burn out.”
“It’ll all pay off when we buy our new home. Just think—you, me, peace and quiet . . . . It’ll be so nice to finally get out of the city.”
I opened my mouth to object and closed it again. Bill worked hard and deserved what he wanted, which was a spacious home in a calm neighborhood. It would be hard for me to adjust to that life after five years in Chicago, but I knew I would eventually get there. “You’re right,” I said. “It’ll pay off then.”
“So you’re good to take the train?” he asked. “I might be late, so don’t wait up.”
~
I woke early but left Bill in bed to sleep. He hadn’t come home until well past two in the morning, and I frowned to think of how hard he’d been working. I threw on my rattiest t-shirt and black spandex pants before raking my hair back into a ponytail. As I was grabbing my tennis shoes, Bill turned, muttered something, and hugged my pillow to him.
I started out the day with some Madonna and bounced down the street, taking a right, then a left, all the while humming along to “Papa Don’t Preach.” A few songs in, I yanked the headphones from my ears and pushed into the building. Telltale sounds of a bustling animal shelter pierced the air; high-pitched meows punctured low, deep barks. I’d been volunteering at the shelter twice a month since Bill and I had moved to the area, more if I could manage.
On my way to the back, I stopped at a floor cage to peer inside. “Well, you’re new,” I cooed to a miniature black-and-caramel mutt. His big eyes blinked up at me as he sat motionless. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” I righted myself and came face to face with George.
“Morning, Liv.”
“Hi, George. How are things?”
His smiled waned. I knew the answer. Life at the animal shelter could be a lot of things: fun, rewarding, messy, sweet—and quite often, heartbreaking. Though there were no-kill shelters in the area, they got more volunteers than the ones that weren’t. And that wasn’t the fault of the animals. They needed exercise, food, and love too, even if they might not last until the end of the week.
“So put me to work then. What’s top of the list today?”
“Eureka needs a walk,” he said, making a face. “She’s been bouncing off the walls all morning, and no one else wants to take her.”
I laughed. “That’s why I’ve got my tennies,” I said, curling my leg up. “Bring it on.”
Once I heard the emphatic clicking of four sets of toenails against the concrete, I braced myself. Eureka flew through the door and stopped short just as she got to me, straining against her leash.
“She’s all yours,” George called over her barking. As I took the leash, she jumped up to lick my face, and then sniffed my shoes, working her way up to my crotch.
“All right, girl, that’s enough,” I said, laughing as I pushed her snout away.
I mustered all the enthusiasm I had and ran her down to Lakefront Trail while fending off her overzealous attempts to french my face. Once we hit the path, we slowed to a walk, and I kept her close as we passed laughing children, zooming cyclists, and fellow dogs. When she’d calmed down a bit, we sat to people watch. She wagged her tail excitedly at everyone who looked our way.
“Hey. Olivia, right?”
I glanced up, trying to place the man standing over me.
“Rick,” he said. “From the ballet.”
“Oh, of course. Rick.” I recognized him as Gretchen’s would-be suitor. “What are you up to?”
“Just finishing up a run. Is this your dog?”
“No, no. She’s from the shelter. We’re just getting her some fresh air.”
“Oh. A volunteer?”
“You got it.”
“Well, she’s a cutie.”
“She is, but she has a lot of energy,” I said, waving my hand for emphasis. Just then, Eureka stood up and sniffed Rick’s leg. She sat back and watched him, panting and waiting patiently for him to pet her.
“You know, I had a Pit Bull growing up. I think she might be half.” He examined her. “How old is she?”
“About a year. She should calm down soon, she just has that puppy energy right now.” I watched him stroke her fur and murmur softly. “She also has all her shots,” I added.
He looked up and smiled. “I know what you’re getting at. To tell you the truth, getting a dog has crossed my mind. I just worry I don’t have the time.”
“I can put you in touch with dog walkers. A lot of city dwellers use them. And on the weekends you’d have a running partner.”
He crouched down then and took her face in his hands, rubbing her head. “What’s her name?”
“Eureka.”
“Eureka. That’s great,” he said, laughing. “She is most definitely a Eureka. Well, Liv, I’ll give it some thought.”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Where can I find her?”
“Here, give me your information,” I said, handing him my cell phone. “I’ll text you the info. One thing though . . . Eureka has been at the shelter for a few weeks now, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll be around.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Oh.” He ran his hand over his chin. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry. No pressure.”
“Eureka, huh?”
“You could someone around, right? Single?”
He nodded. “Single. In fact, I took Gretchen out last week. She’s great.”
“But?”
“Very independent. So independent that I can’t get her to return my calls.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. We grew up together, and I can promise you this: it’s not you, it’s her.”
He waved me off. “Got it. Nice talking to you. Text me that info tonight if you can.”
I stood and watched him run off, clasping my hands in hopes that he would come through. Sometimes things were just meant to be, and Rick hitting on Gretchen at the ballet seemed like one of those things. When I looked down, Eureka had wound herself between my legs, ensnaring me in a certified leash trap.
“What are you doing?” I sang, trying to detangle myself. Just then, a small dog across the way started barking, and Eureka bolted for her, knocking me on my back. “Eureka!” I screamed, restraining her with every ounce of muscle I had, which apparently, was just enough.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I heard a man’s voice call as he ran over and rounded her up. “Now there’s an expression I haven’t heard in quite some time,” he said, bending over me. Bleached blond locks hung around his handsome, tanned face.
“I’m sorry?”
“Eureka.”
“Oh.” I grinned, taking his outstretched hands and noting how his toned arms flexed from his cut-off tank as he pulled me up. “No, that’s her name.”
“Ah, of course. That makes more sense.” His smile was friendly. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little embarrassed, thanks.”
“Don’t be, it was a very graceful fall, all things considered.” I blushed and shook my head, noticing his furtive glance at my left hand. “Well, I should take off before I lose my heart rate. Try to be more careful, Eureka,” he called as he ran off.
“We’d better get you back before you kill me or someone else,” I told the dog. We ran all the way back to the shelter, where I gathered her information to send to Rick.
“Got it.” Bill tapped his head and pulled the car up to the curb. “I’ll meet you there. I can’t get out of the office any sooner.”
“I know, babe. That’s why I scheduled it for eight o’clock. Luckily the Donovans aren’t early birds.”
“No shit. They’re bigger partiers than us, which is depressing considering they’re twice our age.” He leaned down to peck me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks for taking me to work today,” I said and winked. “I owe you.”
“Love you,” he called as I shut the door behind me.
“Oh, hello, fancy girl!” I heard from behind me. “Can’t be bothered with public transportation like us common folk?”
“Hi, Jenny.”
“I love Fridays,” Jenny said as we walked to the front of the building. “They’re so full of possibility. Know what I love more than Fridays though? Gossip.”
“Where do you get all this?” I teased.
“Nothing gets by reception,” she said, deadpan. “Beman’s going to fire Diane.”
“What?” I asked, stopping suddenly. “He wouldn’t fire a senior editor with everything that’s coming up. How do you know?”
“I just know. I also know that he’s going to hire you in her place.”
“You’re joking,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. “But isn’t Lisa next in line? Are you sure?”
“Yep. Everyone knows you’ve been carrying Diane’s load for years.” I stiffened when she touched my arm. “Since we’re early, want to grab a coffee with me?”
“No,” I said with faux disappointment. “I want to get a head start on the day. I’ll see you up there?”
“Sure thing.”
I headed to the fourteenth floor and shook my head in disbelief. I’d been working hard under Diane for years but senior editor was a leap. Was I ready to step into her position? My dad’s voice was clear in my ear: Say yes to everything. Never pass up an opportunity.
Coming off the elevator, I almost ran right into the editor-in-chief and balked as I was hit with the smell of his self-tanner. His face pinched, deepening the many wrinkles around his eyes.
“Good morning, Olivia,” he said as we switched positions. “Nice to see you here early. Come by my office in an hour, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Beman,” I said as the elevator doors closed between us. I turned the corner to see Lisa through the glass doors, hovering over Jenny’s desk. Damn. I exhaled audibly and pushed through the doors to Chicago Metropolitan Magazine, giving her a quick wave. What time does she get here anyway?
I made sure to arrive at Beman’s office exactly one hour after our conversation. It was all I needed to decide what my answer would be. I waited in a seat while he tidied his desk. As always, his back was too straight, the part in his white hair too perfect.
“I fired Diane this morning,” he said suddenly. I didn’t have to fake my surprise because before I had a chance to respond, he continued. “I’ve been very pleased with your work as an editorial assistant. Not only do I think of you as an innovative editor, but your writing style fits the magazine very well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beman,” I said, masking my shock at the compliment. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”
“It’s not my opinion, it’s just the truth,” he said. “In any case, I’m moving Lisa into Diane’s position and giving you her title of associate editor.” My face heated with disappointment. I almost wished Jenny hadn’t mentioned anything, and I definitely wished I wouldn’t have to work as Lisa’s inferior.
“Mr. Beman, if I may—I’ve been working closely with Diane for almost three years now. I’m ready to step into her position.”
He eyed me carefully as I remained passive, watching him back. “As our associate editor, Lisa is technically next in line. You believe you’re ready, though?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s try this then. We’ll start with one of our most popular features: ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes.’ It’s got potential to be our top-selling issue of the year. Let’s entice advertisers with our best selection of people yet. Move into Diane’s office for now and work with Lisa on the article, along with whatever other assignments Diane had coming up. I’ll decide who I’d like to promote after the issue hits.”
I nodded and stood to shake his hand. “I’m in. Thank you, sir.” He sent me on my way with the news that Diane was already cleared out and then requested I send Lisa in to see him. She gave me a knowing, slightly triumphant smile as she glided past me to his office.
After moving what few items I had from my cubicle to Diane’s office, I excitedly picked up planning where she’d left off. In my enthusiasm, I decided to enlist the help of an intern.
“Looks like we’ll be working together on ‘Most Eligible,’” I said, poking my head into Lisa’s office on my way to the interns’ station. She only grunted, never taking her eyes off her computer screen. Lisa was nothing if not passive aggressive, which would be fine if her bitterness didn’t surface in other ways. “So I’ll come by this afternoon, and we can get started. I can catch you up on where Diane left off.”
She blinked up at me for a quick second. “Great, Liv. I’m crazy this afternoon, but I’ll try to squeeze you in.”
I gave her a tight smile, but she was already ignoring me again. Moments later I was staring at the back of a short blonde bob that ended in soft, pink tips. “Are you Serena?”
A young girl, who I guessed to be just out of college, turned suddenly. “Oh, yes. Mrs. Germaine? Or is it Ms. Germaine? Jenny wasn’t sure.” She glanced at my ring. “Or something else?”
“Whatever you like. Call me Liv if you want. About the article you e-mailed last night. You sent it awfully late.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, her light eyes widening. “I was feeling so, like, inspired, and I didn’t want to stop so I was up all night working on it. Next time I can wait to send it ‘til the morning.”
“No, don’t worry about that,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just glad you got it in early. Makes everyone’s job easier.”
“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her fingertips. “I thought I was in trouble.”
“Nope. Anyway, I liked the article, but there are some things I want fixed. I’ll e-mail my notes. In the meantime, Lisa and I will be taking over the annual ‘Most Eligible’ issue. I’d like it to be the best selection of bachelors and bachelorettes that we can possibly find. Can you start narrowing?”
“Sounds good,” Serena said as she made notes on a yellow pad. “How do I know what to look for? Like, looks-wise or . . . like . . . occupations?”
I gave her a tense smile, wondering if I’d given instructions to the right person. I made a mental note to follow up later. “Grab issues from the last few years to get an idea of what we’re looking for. I know they’ve weeded out people already, but this year I want the absolute best options out there. No friends of friends or relatives. Set up interviews with the top picks so Lisa and I can decide from there.”
“K,” she said. Even though it was just a letter, her voice wavered, and her eyebrows met in the middle.
“I was an intern once too.” I gave her my best attempt at a reassuring face. “You’ll figure it out.”
~
“Hello, dear,” Mack said when I entered the restaurant that evening. I loved how his smiles deepened the wrinkles by his eyes because they were always genuine.
“Mack,” I said with a kiss on his cheek. I leaned over to his wife Davena.
“How are you, honey?” she asked, her down-home drawl a stark contrast to Mack’s clean British accent.
“Bill should be here any minute. He’s been at work late every night the past two weeks, but he’s on his way.”
“No problem,” Mack said. “Let’s sit and get a drink.” He indicated the hostess. I let them go ahead. Their hands never unlinked while they maneuvered through the restaurant.
“How’s work?” Davena asked once we were seated.
“Wonderful,” I said. “I just found out I’m up for a promotion. My colleague, Lisa, is more qualified on paper, but I know I can handle the position.”
“I knew you’d work your way up quickly,” Davena said. “I never put my stamp on anyone I don’t believe in.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. It was Davena’s recommendation that had secured me the internship years earlier.
“Don’t waste your energy on the competition,” she added, studying her menu. “If I know you, she’s the one who should be worried.”
“And your mother?” Mack asked. “How is she?”
“She’s well.”
“Anything in the works?”
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Isn’t there always?”
He grinned appreciatively. “I always tell everyone what an outstanding writer she is. Brilliant artist,” he mused. “I look forward to her next novel.”
“Well, she certainly has an artist’s temperament,” I muttered.
“You know that Max, from her first novel, was based on me? A sprightly British cad, come to university to terrorize the young ladies of the U.S. of A.”
“Of course she knows that Mack, you remind her incessantly,” Davena teased.
“Rubbish,” he said, sneaking me a devious smile. “She was quite the girl, your mother. Walked right into the university’s newspaper office and demanded they print her piece on corporate sexism. I knew then that we’d be great friends. No surprise she became editor of that paper soon after. A real go-getter, like our Liv here.” I frowned, and he laughed.
I spotted Bill through the diners and cringed when his elbow accidentally struck a woman in the head. The restaurant’s lighting turned his gold shirt mustard.
“I was here on time,” Bill said, breathing hard, “but parking is impossible.” He leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Congrats on the job opportunity.” He turned to Mack and Davena, dragging his chair from the table. “What’d I miss?”
“We were just reminiscing about old times,” Mack said. “Here, have some wine.”
“What’s new with you guys?” Bill asked. I looked at him gratefully. He knew how I hated to talk about ‘old times.’
“Well, Mack and I are headed on a last-minute trip to the Amalfi Coast, so we’ve been shopping ourselves silly.”
“Correction, she has been shopping herself silly,” Mack interrupted. “I’m just the human credit card.”
She waved him off. “I only needed a bathing suit that’d cover my new scar.” She pointed to her side. “No more bikinis for me,” she scowled, “just old lady one-pieces.” I eyed her petite but athletic body—she was the picture of health with olive skin and cropped, wavy blonde hair. Her fiery eyes were surpassed only by her sassy attitude.
Even with the discovery of her breast cancer three years earlier, I’d never seen her without a twinkle in her eye. Pity was not a word in her vocabulary, and I’d learned long ago that normalcy was the best medicine.
“You really should go see my best friend Lucy,” I said.
“Which one is Lucy?”
“Her college friend,” Davena said. “Try and keep up.”
“Liv and Lucy rushed the same sorority,” Bill said. “When they were accepted, they decided they liked each other better than any of the other girls and dropped out together.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Mack smiled, ever the romantic.
“She’s a stylist, right?” asked Davena.
“Yes, and she works just across the street from me. I’m sure she can help you find something that’s cute and conservative.”
Davena made a gagging noise. “I hate that word. Me, conservative? No, missy.”
“Why do you think she made me move from Dallas?” Mack joked.
“So can you take Liv on this vacation?” Bill asked, nodding in my direction. “This girl needs some sun.”
I pouted. “I’m not that bad,” I said, pushing up my sleeve as the table laughed.
“You stay out of the sun, hon,” Davena said. “Fair skin is in. Embrace it.”
I laughed and nodded. “Sure it is. Pale is all the rage.”
“Hey, Davena—get this. We just finished a case against a doctor who botched a mastectomy and nearly killed the woman.”
“That’s horrid, Bill. I don’t want to hear that.”
I almost rolled my eyes at Bill’s inept social skills.
“Really, dear, how’s mum?” Mack asked me with a lowered voice.
“I haven’t spoken to her much lately,” I confessed. “She says she’s working on a new book but won’t say what exactly. And since Dad no longer owes her alimony, she claims she’s broke. But between a successful career and my father’s support all those years, I just don’t see how that can be.” I found Mack’s company comforting. Because of their history, he knew my mother in a way Bill and my friends couldn’t. “Bill offered to lend her money, but I think it’s bad idea. And we really don’t have it to spare, since we’re house hunting.”
“Are you?” he asked, and clapped his hands once. “I’m so happy for you. You really are all grown up, little Liv. I still remember your first birthday—such a fabulous event your mother threw, and you, hardly able to enjoy it. She had that party for herself.”
“What’s so funny?” Davena asked when we both laughed.
“These two are house hunting.”
“Oh, you know Mack and I own quite a bit of property, so we’re nearly experts.”
Bill smiled proudly and launched into a recount of our progress. It was his favorite topic as of late, so I let him talk and nodded at all the right times. Davena was sure to interject when she disagreed with Bill, and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. If there’d been an ounce of religion in my household growing up, Mack and Davena would’ve been my godparents. They’d always been protective, and Davena, being a natural know-it-all, didn’t mind pointing out when Bill was wrong.
During dinner, I admired Mack and Davena’s easy interaction. They touched often, as if Mack was reassuring her of his presence. Once, when he thought we weren’t looking, Mack leaned in and kissed her between bites. She rolled her eyes playfully. I smiled at Bill, but he was looking at his phone.
When we’d settled the check, Mack said, “Don’t worry too much about your mother. Leanore’s always been able to take care of herself. Just remember that she may need emotional support more than she needs money.” He patted me on the back. His words rang true, but unfortunately, emotional support had never been my strong suit. “And if we can be of any help with the house hunt, just call.”
“Have a great trip,” Bill said as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. He draped his arm over my shoulders and waved as they walked away. “Hey,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Bad news. I have to go back to the office.”
“What?” I looked up at him. “It’s Friday night.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”
“It’s all right,” I said, running my hand down his long forearm. “I just don’t want you to burn out.”
“It’ll all pay off when we buy our new home. Just think—you, me, peace and quiet . . . . It’ll be so nice to finally get out of the city.”
I opened my mouth to object and closed it again. Bill worked hard and deserved what he wanted, which was a spacious home in a calm neighborhood. It would be hard for me to adjust to that life after five years in Chicago, but I knew I would eventually get there. “You’re right,” I said. “It’ll pay off then.”
“So you’re good to take the train?” he asked. “I might be late, so don’t wait up.”
~
I woke early but left Bill in bed to sleep. He hadn’t come home until well past two in the morning, and I frowned to think of how hard he’d been working. I threw on my rattiest t-shirt and black spandex pants before raking my hair back into a ponytail. As I was grabbing my tennis shoes, Bill turned, muttered something, and hugged my pillow to him.
I started out the day with some Madonna and bounced down the street, taking a right, then a left, all the while humming along to “Papa Don’t Preach.” A few songs in, I yanked the headphones from my ears and pushed into the building. Telltale sounds of a bustling animal shelter pierced the air; high-pitched meows punctured low, deep barks. I’d been volunteering at the shelter twice a month since Bill and I had moved to the area, more if I could manage.
On my way to the back, I stopped at a floor cage to peer inside. “Well, you’re new,” I cooed to a miniature black-and-caramel mutt. His big eyes blinked up at me as he sat motionless. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” I righted myself and came face to face with George.
“Morning, Liv.”
“Hi, George. How are things?”
His smiled waned. I knew the answer. Life at the animal shelter could be a lot of things: fun, rewarding, messy, sweet—and quite often, heartbreaking. Though there were no-kill shelters in the area, they got more volunteers than the ones that weren’t. And that wasn’t the fault of the animals. They needed exercise, food, and love too, even if they might not last until the end of the week.
“So put me to work then. What’s top of the list today?”
“Eureka needs a walk,” he said, making a face. “She’s been bouncing off the walls all morning, and no one else wants to take her.”
I laughed. “That’s why I’ve got my tennies,” I said, curling my leg up. “Bring it on.”
Once I heard the emphatic clicking of four sets of toenails against the concrete, I braced myself. Eureka flew through the door and stopped short just as she got to me, straining against her leash.
“She’s all yours,” George called over her barking. As I took the leash, she jumped up to lick my face, and then sniffed my shoes, working her way up to my crotch.
“All right, girl, that’s enough,” I said, laughing as I pushed her snout away.
I mustered all the enthusiasm I had and ran her down to Lakefront Trail while fending off her overzealous attempts to french my face. Once we hit the path, we slowed to a walk, and I kept her close as we passed laughing children, zooming cyclists, and fellow dogs. When she’d calmed down a bit, we sat to people watch. She wagged her tail excitedly at everyone who looked our way.
“Hey. Olivia, right?”
I glanced up, trying to place the man standing over me.
“Rick,” he said. “From the ballet.”
“Oh, of course. Rick.” I recognized him as Gretchen’s would-be suitor. “What are you up to?”
“Just finishing up a run. Is this your dog?”
“No, no. She’s from the shelter. We’re just getting her some fresh air.”
“Oh. A volunteer?”
“You got it.”
“Well, she’s a cutie.”
“She is, but she has a lot of energy,” I said, waving my hand for emphasis. Just then, Eureka stood up and sniffed Rick’s leg. She sat back and watched him, panting and waiting patiently for him to pet her.
“You know, I had a Pit Bull growing up. I think she might be half.” He examined her. “How old is she?”
“About a year. She should calm down soon, she just has that puppy energy right now.” I watched him stroke her fur and murmur softly. “She also has all her shots,” I added.
He looked up and smiled. “I know what you’re getting at. To tell you the truth, getting a dog has crossed my mind. I just worry I don’t have the time.”
“I can put you in touch with dog walkers. A lot of city dwellers use them. And on the weekends you’d have a running partner.”
He crouched down then and took her face in his hands, rubbing her head. “What’s her name?”
“Eureka.”
“Eureka. That’s great,” he said, laughing. “She is most definitely a Eureka. Well, Liv, I’ll give it some thought.”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Where can I find her?”
“Here, give me your information,” I said, handing him my cell phone. “I’ll text you the info. One thing though . . . Eureka has been at the shelter for a few weeks now, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll be around.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Oh.” He ran his hand over his chin. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry. No pressure.”
“Eureka, huh?”
“You could someone around, right? Single?”
He nodded. “Single. In fact, I took Gretchen out last week. She’s great.”
“But?”
“Very independent. So independent that I can’t get her to return my calls.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. We grew up together, and I can promise you this: it’s not you, it’s her.”
He waved me off. “Got it. Nice talking to you. Text me that info tonight if you can.”
I stood and watched him run off, clasping my hands in hopes that he would come through. Sometimes things were just meant to be, and Rick hitting on Gretchen at the ballet seemed like one of those things. When I looked down, Eureka had wound herself between my legs, ensnaring me in a certified leash trap.
“What are you doing?” I sang, trying to detangle myself. Just then, a small dog across the way started barking, and Eureka bolted for her, knocking me on my back. “Eureka!” I screamed, restraining her with every ounce of muscle I had, which apparently, was just enough.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I heard a man’s voice call as he ran over and rounded her up. “Now there’s an expression I haven’t heard in quite some time,” he said, bending over me. Bleached blond locks hung around his handsome, tanned face.
“I’m sorry?”
“Eureka.”
“Oh.” I grinned, taking his outstretched hands and noting how his toned arms flexed from his cut-off tank as he pulled me up. “No, that’s her name.”
“Ah, of course. That makes more sense.” His smile was friendly. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little embarrassed, thanks.”
“Don’t be, it was a very graceful fall, all things considered.” I blushed and shook my head, noticing his furtive glance at my left hand. “Well, I should take off before I lose my heart rate. Try to be more careful, Eureka,” he called as he ran off.
“We’d better get you back before you kill me or someone else,” I told the dog. We ran all the way back to the shelter, where I gathered her information to send to Rick.