The Pace (19 page)

“That’s Dr. Thomas’,” I observed. Both she and Wes looked at me with wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Who is Dr. Thomas?” I looked at Wes, whose eyes were locked on me. He was mute. I looked back at my mom, who was waiting for an answer.

“He was Wes’ uncle,” I said, looking at the cup as she finished unwrapping the matching saucer. “It’s an heirloom.”

My mom whipped her head around to face Wes, who was still staring at me.

“Wes, I can’t accept this. This is for you. I shouldn’t have it,” she said.

I cleared my throat to signal Wes to respond. He blinked and turned away from me.

“I want you to have it, Ms. Slone. It would mean a lot.”

“Oh! Wow,” she said, marveling in the fine details. “Thank you. I’ll take great care of it.” After a few moments, she took the cup and saucer and walked back to the kitchen, still admiring the pattern. Wes shifted into her previous spot, making it so he was only a few inches from me.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“Know that the teacup was Dr. Thomas’.” His expression was intense.

I leaned back from the unexpected interrogation. “I don’t know. I just figured it was old and just assumed it was his.”

“Why wouldn’t you assume it was my mother’s?” he asked, which was a perfectly reasonable question.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, lucky guess. Why?”

He examined my expression for a while before relaxing. Just then, the bell rang, and my mom practically flew out of the kitchen. “That’s Tom,” she said nervously, making her way toward the door. Like the gentleman he was, Wes stood up to welcome his arrival. My mother led Tom in. He was a handsome man, considering he was already gray. He was also much older than I would have pictured for my mom, but he was good looking and seemed good to her. He gave her anything she wanted, and it was nice to see someone spoiling her. She deserved it.

“Tom, you’ve met Sophie, and this is Weston,” she said, motioning toward Wes. Tom walked around the sofa and Wes met him halfway, reaching out his hand for a shake.

“Wes. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom Lawrence,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Wes returned politely.

Both Tom and my mother were smiling, oddly, like proud parents.

“Mom, do you mind if we go for a walk?”

She exchanged a glance between us. “No, not at all, kids. Go right ahead. Tom can help me in the kitchen. Just don’t be gone long. Dinner will be ready soon.”

We both nodded in compliance and made our way to the exit. I grabbed his hand after he bundled himself up in his heavy coat and hat. I, too, bundled up more than I normally would have. I had grown accustomed to doing that, so as not to draw too much attention to Wes’ overcompensation.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as we started walking. “I just wanted to get out of there for a minute. It was too weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

It struck me as strange for him to agree. “Why is that?” I inquired.

“Because I know him.”

I snapped my head up. “Know him how?”

“I went to school with him.”

“When?” I shot back.

“When I went to Berkeley, the first time. Thirty years ago.”

“Oh my goodness. I had no idea. I’m sorry. I never would’ve had you come.” I was starting to freak. He stopped walking and turned toward me.

“No, it’s okay. We had no way to know. There are a zillion and one Toms out there. Besides,” he said, putting his hands on my face. “I’m used to running into people I knew before. They think they knew my father.”

“Weird.”

“I know.” He smiled and leaned over to kiss me. His lips felt cooler than normal. He was getting cold. I went to move his hands back down to our sides so we could head back, and I felt his wrist. He was wearing the watch I’d bought him. I smiled.

“Let me see,” I said, pulling his sleeve back to look at the weather reading. “Ah, it is 48 degrees out. Let’s go.” He smiled and took my hand as we headed back toward the house.

My mom and Tom were in the kitchen when we arrived.

“That was fast,” she said.

“It was cold,” I replied.

Dinner was about ready, and I started helping her transfer the food onto the dining room table. Tom was more than eager to help as well. He followed her around like she was a queen.

My mom set the place setting so she and I were opposite from each other. She wasn’t ready to give Tom the position at the head of the table. I was just fine with that, because it meant I was sitting closer to Wes. My leg could reach his under the table.

Tom volunteered to ask blessing over the food, and then he carved the turkey as we passed the side dishes around. Once we all had our plates full, my mom wasted no time initiating the conversation.

“So, what are you studying at Berkeley, Wes?”

“Chemistry,” he answered, softly, making eye contact with only her.

“Chemistry?” Tom interjected. “That’s great. What do you plan to do with that?”

“I think I might go into medicine,” he answered, not quite making complete eye contact with him.

“That’s impressive. I teach at the medical school there,” Tom noted. “I would be happy to put in a good word for you if you want.”

Wes smiled kindly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Of course, if you have smarts like your father, you won’t need my recommendation,” he added.

I coughed, and everyone turned my way to make sure I was okay.

“I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.” I quickly took a drink.

Once my mom was satisfied with my well-being, she diverted her attention back to Tom.

“You knew Wes’ father?” she asked.

We all looked at him attentively, including Wes.

“Yes, I did. We went to Berkeley together. We were study partners and friends. I thought he was going to go into medicine, too, but he went to flight school instead.” He looked at Wes for a reaction.

Wes appeared very calm and unnerved. I suppose years of experience playing it cool paid off. He decided it was best to go along with it.

“You knew my father?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” Tom said, nodding. “He was a good man.”

My mother was fascinated with the connection. I, on the other hand, was almost sick to my stomach.

“Thank you,” Wes responded politely. They both started eating again, and for a few moments, it was silent.

“You look like him, you know?” Tom pointed out. I cringed.

“That’s what people say,” Wes responded casually.

“It’s quite remarkable. You could pass for him, if you had different hair and the accent.”

“Accent?” I questioned.

Tom looked at me. “Yes, his father had an English accent. It drove the girls crazy.”

“Really?” I perked up, quite interested and jealous at the same time.

“Yes, really. He could’ve had any girl he wanted, but he was never interested.” I relaxed. “I didn’t even think he liked girls until he graduated. He ran off and married, and I never saw him again. I never met her, but I assume that was your mother.” He motioned toward Wes, whose eyes were fixed on his food.

Tom sensed the awkwardness. “I was so sorry to hear about his accident,” he offered.

Wes smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” I interjected, taking the attention off of Wes. “So do you have any kids, Dr. Lawrence?”

His facial expression changed from sympathy for Wes to sadness of his own. “I had one son. He died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He nodded in acceptance. My mom rescued me from the uncomfortable feeling by asking me to pass the potatoes. Gladly, the rest of the meal continued with just small talk. After dinner, I went to the kitchen to help her clean, but Tom was already helping. I offered anyway. “Do you need any help?” I asked.

“No sweetie. I’m fine. Thanks. You go entertain your guest.”

“Okay. Let me know if we can help.”

She never turned from the sink. “Okay, will do.”

Tom turned to give me a soft smile. I nodded and went to Wes. He was on the living room sofa expecting my entrance.

“Wow,” I said. “That was freaky.” I plopped down on the sofa next to him.

“Agreed,” he said, placing his arm around my shoulders.

“Married?” I asked.

He smirked. “No.”

“But Tom said—”

“I had to give people a reason for me to disappear.”

“Oh.” That was satisfying enough. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Did you really have an English accent?”

“Yes, I’m from London, remember?”

“Well, where is it?”

“Well, I can’t very well get away with being English forever. I’ve Americanized myself over the years. Plus, I have to do anything I can to distance myself from…” He was searching for words.

“From yourself?”

He smiled.

“Can I hear it sometime?” I asked.

“Anytime you want.”

“With the exception of Tom being around,” I corrected. He chuckled. “Do you think he suspects anything?” I whispered.

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “He was attentive, but I didn’t sense that he was bothered by my presence.” There was something about the way he said
sense
that made me curious.

“How so? How can you tell?” I asked.

“I can get a pretty good vibe off of people.”

“Vibe? Like a feeling?”

“Yes. I can sense the energy they give off, and he seemed more excited than anything. I think he likes your mother.”

“So you think he’s good for her?”

He pondered for a moment. “He was a good friend when I knew him, and he seems all right now. I’m not sure about the part about his son though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. His heart rate picked up once you asked that.”

“Hmm. Well, I bet yours did, too, when he started talking about you.”

He laughed.

“Can you hear what they’re saying now?” I asked.

He leaned his head back to listen. “Yes.”

“What are they talking about?”

“They like me,” he said, smirking.

“Good,” I replied. “Too bad we won’t be hanging around here though.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I can’t risk any more awkward exchanges between you and your
old
friend, and I really don’t want to watch him and my mother together, if you know what I mean.”

“That sounds good to me,” he agreed, before leaning down to kiss me gently. Of course, I took it a little further than that. After a few moments of clandestine making out, I snuggled in closer to him, all the while plotting on how I could spend more time with him
away
from home.

A
fter our holiday dinner, it got easier to spend more time with Wes without my mother prying too much. Of course, it helped that she had a new social life of her own. She had other things to do besides pry into the love life of her eighteen-year-old daughter.

Lucky for me, on New Year’s Eve, it turned out my mother was going away with Tom for the night, so I was granted even more freedom. I wanted the night to be special, and I needed to feel completely alone with Wes, so I decided I wanted to spend the night at his house.

He ended up planning the rest of the details as a surprise. All he asked was that I wear a nice dress, and I, of course, didn’t really have one. So, I ended up going shopping, and without knowing where we were going, it was hard. I settled on the classic knee-length black dress, because I remembered hearing that a little black dress is appropriate for just about any place and occasion. I also snagged some little black strappy shoes. I left my hair down, because it made me feel more like myself.

When I arrived at his house, I noticed a limo waiting in the driveway, and it piqued my interest. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Just a car,” he said, greeting me.

“No, not just a car. What’s it for?”

“It’s for me and you. I want to be able to focus on you tonight. Not the road.”

I blushed. He carried my bag into his house and then escorted me to the limo.

The thinker in me wanted to press the secret of our destination, but the intuition in me concluded that it didn’t matter. He could’ve been taking me to the end of the world, and for as handsome as he looked in his black shirt and slacks, I would’ve gone willingly. So, instead of interrogating him, I chose to nestle close to him and enjoy the ride.

Eventually, I realized we were going into San Francisco, and I anticipated dinner, but once again, he completely amazed me. We
were
going to have dinner, but it was going to be on a New Year’s Eve cruise around the bay.

“You’re kidding me,” I said, when I saw the yacht. He grabbed my hand and led me from the limo. “This is ridiculous.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Of course I like it, but it’s way over the top,” I said. I mean, most girls my age were out at a party with a sparkly hat and a noisemaker for the night. Here I was about to step foot on a yacht on the bay with the hottest guy on the planet. I immediately thanked Kerry, telepathically, at that moment for simply causing me to smash into his car. I also remembered to give props to fate, since Wes seemed convinced that this was why we had met. Whatever the reason, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Our dinner was delicious, but I noticed we were the youngest people on the yacht, or at least I was. There were countless couples, and many of them were much older. I didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it felt very comfortable, but it made me start thinking about how long the other couples had been together.

It eventually hit me that we didn’t seem to fit into that picture. I couldn’t envision us like that. If he only aged one year for my thirty, I would eventually look like his mother. I shuddered at the thought. It was bothering me all through dinner, but I couldn’t figure out how to discuss it without actually bringing my potential oldness to his attention. That certainly wasn’t attractive, so I decided not to go there for the time being. Instead, I settled on a more subtle topic.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” I asked.

He smiled softly. “Nothing.”

“Well I’m getting you something whether you want me to or not, so you might as well tell me.”