Four Nights to Forever (18 page)

He pushed away from the table and stood. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

She didn’t respond until he was in the bathroom, packing up his toothbrush, and then he didn’t think he was supposed to hear what she said.

“I think I am, too . . .”

‡

T
here was nothing in the small library Cassie wanted to read, but coming down here had only been a pretense anyway. She read the back of every paperback on the shelves before finally deciding on some thin mystery novel with a weird green edging on the pages, yellowed paper, and a broken spine. It looked old and the plot seemed full of people solving their problems through stupidity. She sympathized completely.

When she made it back to the condo, Doug had removed every piece of evidence that he had ever been there, except for the condoms in the trash can and the scent of him on the pillows. She lay on her side on the bed, going through the motions of reading a book and not seeing a word through her tears.

It was stupid to want to move across the country to be with a guy she’d only known for a week. Right?

She put her book down and picked up her phone. It was midnight, which meant it was two in the morning in Massachusetts. Sam might be up, but Cassie didn’t want to talk to her daughter about this. She’d already learned that Sam saw packing up an entire life and moving across country as an exciting adventure. Instead, Cassie called Karen.

“Ugh,” Karen’s sleepy voice said into the phone. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes. Did I wake Charles?”

“No.” Something rustled in the background on the other end of the line, and Karen’s cat meowed. “It’s more comfortable for me to sleep on the recliner so I’m in the living room.”

“Can we talk?”

“You’re not going to apologize for waking me?”

“I’m sorry.” Cassie scooted up in bed until she was sitting. “So, can we talk?”

“Well, I’m awake now, so why not?” Karen grumbled.

“Tell me I’m right not to move across the country to be with a ski instructor I’ve only know for a week.”

“What!?” Judging by the volume in her voice, Karen was
really
awake now. Charles might be, as well. And Karen’s neighbors. “You texted that this was just a fling!”

“Well, it was . . . except it’s not. Because I don’t want him to be a stranger to me. And I don’t want to go back to a world where he’s not in my life.” There, she’d said the words aloud. And they were scary, but not nearly as scary when she’d only said them silently to herself.

“And you’re not saying this because he’s the first man since Tom to give you reliable orgasms? Wait. The ski instructor does give you orgasms, right? Because if you’re asking this without orgasms, then I’m getting on a plane and coming to get you.”

“He’s got kids, Karen.” And, from the one photo she’d seen when they’d texted, they were cute kids. “And he’s so much younger than I am.”

“Oh.” Karen knew what those first three words meant as much as anyone in her life. Their friendship had struggled during the years when Karen was having babies, but both of them had dogged their way through it. And the first thing Karen had said after Cassie had signed her divorce papers was,
You could find a man with kids. You’d be a good stepmom.

In her shortsightedness back then, Cassie had replied that being a stepmom would only be a reminder of the kids she’d never had. No, thank you. Not for her. But she’d stared at the picture of Doug’s kids and seen the love in his eyes when he spoke of them. She could be willing to learn to be a good stepmom to them. The best stepmom. Because even if she could accept less, Doug wouldn’t.

She waited for the pang of fear to come, but the thought of another marriage, of being a stepmom, was less scary than the thought of never seeing Doug again.

But there was still the possibility that he’d want more children. If he did want more children and if he ever left her for it, she wasn’t sure she’d recover.

“So,” Karen said, “have you met the kids?”

“No. I think I have to make this decision knowing there are children involved—including Sam—but I have to make it for myself. Meeting them would just make it harder to do that.”

Protect myself.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Karen asked. “You don’t have anything tying you here anymore. Not really.”

“I could move here, not be able to find work, sink into a deep depression, learn Doug wants more children, fight until we break up, and then be stuck in a town with no friends, no family, and no life. All things I have in Framingham.”

“Well, you have friends and family,” Karen said dryly.

Her friend’s words stung. “Hey, I have a life,” she shot back.

“You stopped your life, Cassie. If it wasn’t about Sam or teaching yoga classes, you weren’t interested. You’re interested in other things now, and that’s a pretty good sign.”

Cassie opened her mouth to defend herself, but Karen was right. Hell, she’d even stopped going out with most of her friends. Karen had beat her shoulders against the walls Cassie had erected around herself, but not all her friends had been so pushy.

“That’s an argument
against
moving,” Cassie pointed out. “Doug might just be a rebound guy.”

“Or maybe it’s time for you to make a new life. One that you get to define. And maybe he’s not such a bad guy to do that with.”

“It’s scary.” Each time she admitted to her fear, it got a little easier to carry.

“Cassie, what’s really important to you?” Karen’s words were laced with irritation.

“Sam. Only Sam’s growing up and moving on with her life.” Which was sad and wonderful at the same time.

“That’s it? Just Sam? I mean, she’s your daughter, but you can’t define your life by her.”

“Doug,” she said, honesty pushing through the remaining fear. In the past week, Doug had become incredibly important to her. “But what if it’s not forever? What if I move here and it was the wrong decision?”

“So? I’m going to ask the question again. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’d have to move back to Massachusetts.” But, Cassie realized, with a little more understanding of what she wanted in life. And she would have
tried
. This week, she’d learned just how important
trying
was.

“So you’re back where you started.” Karen’s voice was a little softer now. “Now, think about this: what if you don’t go for it and Doug is the man you’ve always wanted but were too chicken to have?”

“We could play this what-if game until your leg heals.” Cassie said the words because she felt she had to, but they were halfhearted. Because what if Doug
was
the man she’d always wanted? “It’s not a way people—
sensible
people—make decisions.”

I’ve been sensible for twenty years. What if I don’t want to be sensible anymore?

“Are you skiing tomorrow?” Karen asked.

“No. We fought, and I told him to get out, then ran away. When I got back to the condo, he was gone. Going back on what I said and showing up for a lesson tomorrow would be inappropriate.”

“If he really wants you to move across the country to be with him, he’s not going to find you suddenly appearing at a lesson
inappropriate
.” Karen laughed. “What a silly thing to think.”

“I’m trying to be practical.” Cassie forced herself to shift her focus from Doug to the life she could build here on her own. “Maybe I can rent a car and visit some yoga studios today. See if they have any job openings.” If there were only five yoga studios in the whole city and she was the fifteenth person to ask for a job application that day, then she would know it would be a struggle to find work. But maybe there was a shortage of instructors and plenty of work.

“That’s the spirit.”
Oh, Karen, only you could sound chipper and positive, even after being woken up at two in the morning.
“And then when you make your
sensible
decision, you’ll at least be doing it with some information beyond the number of orgasms he gave you.”

And that was the reason they were friends. Under all Karen’s talk of following your heart and fate and orgasms was real, solid advice. Cassie couldn’t make a decision about moving to Utah based on one afternoon driving to yoga studios, but she could get a better handle on just how crazy this plan was by gathering some information.

“And you can always move back,” Karen said quietly. “Don’t do this relying on an escape plan, but it doesn’t have to be permanent.”

“Doug did mention that the resort spa needs a new yoga teacher,” Cassie said slowly, possibility expanding her lungs until the words could barely stumble out.

“Then start there. And Cassie”—Karen’s voice softened with affection—“good reasons make for good decisions. When you let fear rule your life, the results are never satisfying.”

“It’s still scary.” The fear weighed less, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“Did you open your present yet?”

“No.” Cassie was embarrassed to admit it, but she just hadn’t been able to.

“Go open it now. I’ll wait.” The finality in Karen’s voice let Cassie know this was not a just a suggestion.

She threw the covers off and dashed from the bed to the fireplace, snatched the box from the mantle, and rushed back under the covers before she could get too cold. She tore off the brightly colored wrapping paper to find a wooden box. Packed tightly in the wood was a forty-year-old bottle of cognac. “What is this?”

“Read the card.”

Cassie located the small notecard packed in next to the bottle. The front of the card had an ink drawing of a bird on it and inside was a message:

Like this brandy, you’re rare and only get better with age.

Happy birthday.

Love, Karen.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, Karen . . . that’s incredibly sweet. Thank you.”

“I mean every word,” Karen said forcefully. “And that bottle made the move from Massachusetts to Utah. You can, too.”

Only after they’d said good-bye and Cassie had set the phone on the nightstand did it occur to her that two of the most important women in her life had told her to go for it. Her natural caution wanted her to run and hide in the closet at the idea of calling up the building manager back in Massachusetts. Canceling her lease was just the beginning. But she was maybe willing to open the door and stick a toe out to check out the job situation first.

‡

D
oug stood on the plaza, waiting for Cassie even though she’d said she wasn’t coming to the lesson. And who could blame her? Really, what would their lesson be like anyway after last night’s argument?

Knee to boot. Face downhill. Don’t flail your arms. Move to Utah to be with me.

Maybe the horror of the last one would shock her into bending her downhill knee when she turned.

Not that he didn’t understand what moving would mean for her life, because he did. But he felt a stronger connection to her than he had to any women before her. Ever. Even the woman he’d married and who had born him children. And letting that go, letting
Cassie
go, felt
wrong
.

He recognized her hair from across the plaza. Not only was she
not
wearing a helmet, but she wasn’t wearing her ski clothes, either. She was dressed in jeans, fancy boots masquerading as practical, and a tan coat with a bottom that had been cut into points that flowed around her thighs, both sharp and soft at the same time. Like her thighs . . . Her creamy, strong, thighs. Which, along with the rest of her, were going back east.

She was leaving tomorrow, and they wouldn’t even have another ski lesson. No more snowball fights or fooling around in the shower.

She jerked her head in recognition when she saw him, her lovely hair bouncing around her face and a half-smile dancing on her lips. She came toward him, the coat swirling around her legs like a vortex, pulling him in. No matter where she was in the world, he would want to be with her. Lost in her. The heat he felt pulling between them across the cold of the March morning was both further proof and further torture.

And damn her cheerful eyes. The events of last night seemed to be having no effect on her.