ThisTimeNextDoor (18 page)

Mark didn’t demonize the pharmaceutical industry like some people, but any business with a product to sell would corrupt the site. All the advice, the forums, the photos, the links, the information—all of it would be filtered through a corporate committee. It would kill WellyNelly.

Mark stood up. “No. Never.”

“Hey, relax. It’s just an idea. Don’t get upset,” Sylly said, walking over to the door. “I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t think was right.”

When he was gone, Mark slumped back into his chair.

Sylly wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think was right?

Mark didn’t believe that for a second.

Chapter 12

ON A SATURDAY MORNING TWO weeks later, Rose backed up behind Blair’s car in the driveway and yanked on the parking brake.

Well, this is it,
she thought, taking a deep breath. Time to move again.

It was Halloween. Next door, Trixie and Mark’s big old house was decorated so wildly it would stop traffic if it were on a busier street. Long strands of fake white cobwebs stretching from the front bushes to the gutters, and two dozen tarantulas, each at least five feet wide, crawled their way up the front of the house to the top floor windows. One was already halfway inside, its fuzzy legs jutting out and its body crushed, as though a panicked human had slammed the window closed just in time.

With an appreciative shiver, Rose walked up to the house she’d fled a couple of weeks earlier to get the rest of her things. Her new landlord was letting her move in a day early, though she would’ve paid a full month’s rent extra to avoid another night of polyester bedspreads and microwaved oatmeal.

Three pumpkins sat beside the front door. One big, one medium, and a miniature one that would fit in the palm of her hand.

She had to stop and shake off the wave of pain that swept over her. She would be happy for them. It was good they were a family now. Babies needed families.

She reached for the doorknob but stopped, fingers hovering.

Should she knock?

Yes. Not my home. Not my family. Not—

The door swung open. “Hey! Why are you just standing out here?” Blair stepped outside and gave her a hug.

“I was just admiring the pumpkins. But you’ve got nothing on next door.”

“Isn’t that fantastic? John promises we’ll go all out for Christmas.”

They stared at each other, a gulf opening up between them, and Blair’s smile became strained.

“I came for my stuff,” Rose said. “Obviously.”

“I know. I got your email. Well, you know where it is.”

Rose went inside and made a beeline for the basement, then stopped short when she saw John standing in the living room, watching her. She’d assumed he would avoid her, and there was no car in the driveway to warn her she’d been wrong.

“Hi,” Rose said.

“I hear you found a place,” he said. He’d cut his hair short again, maybe for his new job, and he wore gym shorts and a muscle tank. He looked exactly the same as he did the day they met. “That’s great.”

“Yeah.”

“You were welcome to stay here, you know. I could’ve stayed with my mother if you were uncomfortable. Or in a motel.”

Rose just stared at him, not wanting to start a fight.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked over her shoulder.

“I made sure all your kitchen things got packed,” Blair said from behind her. “Especially the knives. I know you paid a lot for those.”

Rose turned, feeling odd to be sandwiched between them. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to cooking again. The apartment has a great kitchen. Fantastic. Bigger than this one, actually. It’s twice the size of the bedroom.”

“That’s awesome,” Blair said, frowning a little as if she didn’t quite believe her.

Well, maybe that was understandable, given Rose’s history of tall tales.

“I better get started.” Rose managed to smile at Blair as she walked to the basement door, even though she found herself oddly enraged, then furious with herself for getting into such a mess.

“I’ll help you,” John said.

“That’s not necessary. There isn’t much.”

But he ignored her and followed her down the steps. “I would’ve carried it up for you, but I didn’t want to look like we were in a hurry to get rid of you,” he said.

Rose picked up the first thing in sight, a box of books, not prepared for how heavy it was. She staggered as she got up.

John put an arm around her to steady her. “Let me. Squats never were your best lift.”

Her heart pounded. “Let go of me.”

“Don’t—fine.” He let go. “I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

He shook his head, scowled at her. “I told Blair this wasn’t going to work.”

The heavy box still in her arms, Rose shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Here we go again. If you’re going to leave her, you’d better get it over—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He made another move for the box, this time overpowering her, lifting it onto his shoulder with ease. “I mean
you
.”

“What about me?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, tell me. You owe me that. What were you going to say?”

“‘Owe you.’ See? That’s what I told Blair. You’re never going to forgive us.”

She picked up a duffel bag and clutched it to her chest like a lumpy nylon breast plate. “You abandoned her, John. She faced everything, even your mother, on her own—”

“Before that. You and me, we had some hot times together, yes. But we knew it wasn’t the real deal. We were just having some fun.”

“Is that what you tell Blair?”

Exhaling with disgust, he dropped the box on the floor, pointed at her. “Blair doesn’t believe me, but you are just as angry at her as you are at me.”

“I’m not. I was hurt at first, but I got over it.”

“Liar.”

“She had the decency to tell me. She was honest.”

“And you’re not. You’re pissed.”

Rose glared at him, tightening her arms around the duffel bag. She wished she were angry. Anger would be easier than fear. Could Blair really be happy with this man? Would he betray her, too? “I’m not angry at Blair. You, yes. You’re an asshole.”

“You’re angry because she has what you had. What we had was burning out but you don’t care, you want it back. You want
me
back.”

“Actually, no,” she said coldly. “I really don’t.”

“You wish I had stayed in New York. Because then you’d have a chance with me.”

She realized she was staring at him with her mouth open. “You really believe that?”

“If you hadn’t come out here to comfort Blair, she might’ve come back home, and we couldn’t have that. Better get her settled out here with my mother where she’d be too trapped with the baby and everything to chase after me. You probably thought I wouldn’t have the guts to come out here with you guarding over her.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I’m right, aren’t I? You just can’t let go of what we had together.”

“Watch me,” she said. “Thank you for carrying my bag to the car. I won’t need any more of your help.”

He stared. Uneasiness flickered in his eyes. “It was never meant to be, Rose. What I have here, well, I want it to work out.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. But I think you could try a little harder.” She picked up the box of books, barely feeling their weight this time, and marched past him up the stairs.

* * *

Luckily there wasn’t much to haul up the stairs into her car. A few boxes, the duffel, a pair stereo speakers, assorted camping backpack and gear, another suitcase. She hadn’t planned to stay in California long, not very long at all, maybe a few months past a year. She’d temp and wait for the baby to arrive, help Blair, maybe, just maybe, apply to grad school.

It had nothing to do with scheming to get John back. Nothing. The only thing she wanted from him was to do right by Blair and the baby.

And she
had
forgiven Blair. Months ago.

She got behind the wheel and started up the engine.
Then why aren’t you going in to hug her goodbye?

She put the car in reverse.

All right, I’m still a little annoyed. So sue me.

Before she backed up, she couldn’t help but look over at the house currently under attack by oversized spiders for a glimpse of Mark. They’d barely spoken in weeks. His office door, in spite of Sylly’s policy, remained closed most of the time. He didn’t seem to visit the kitchen at break time and he didn’t attend company meetings.

 
A lot of rumors were swirling around at work about a buyout, and she was as worried about the change as anyone. She still felt like a phony. Until she got some experience under her belt, she’d worry they only kept her around to keep their favorite programmer happy. He was obviously above the rules other employees lived by.

The way everyone tiptoed around him at the office was very strange. Eyes followed him when he walked past, male and female, and tech guys quoted him in meetings. He had the biggest office and a reserved parking space.

He must be a really, really good programmer.

She braked and stared at the house. He certainly was a really, really good kisser.

Her thoughts went back to the other house and the pair inside. It was unbearable that John thought she was pining over him. Blair must think the same.

Mark had seen it, too, and she’d even admitted it. But in the past few weeks, she’d scarcely thought of John.

Ever since that kiss.

She moved the car forward and killed the engine. Licking her lips, she eyed the spiders, imagining Mark up on a ladder. She smiled and got out of the car.

* * *

Mark shook his hair, wet from the shower, and strode out of the bathroom towards his room. Because his head was in a problem at work, his mind running through lines of code, searching for a bug fix, he didn’t hear the sound of feet coming up the stairs. He had one hand loosely gripping the towel at his hip when he looked up and saw Rose standing only a few steps away from him.

Her blue eyes were wide, her cheeks splotched with color. “Sorry,” she said, a little breathlessly, “your mom sent me up.”

“I bet she did,” he muttered. His pulse tripped over itself as he realized how naked he was. “Hi.”

“Hi.” A slow grin spread across her face. “Bad time?”

He shrugged, tried to look casual. “Shower.”

“I see that.”

She didn’t have to look so amused. It was his house, after all. Which reminded him of something. “Did you find a place?”

“I’m moving in today. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I was wondering if you could give me a hand.” Her gaze dropped down, raked across his chest and back up. “Carrying stuff.”

He swallowed and hoped she didn’t look any lower. Why did she always wear such tight, provocative clothing? She was big, but half of America was bigger than her; she could find a baggier T-shirt if she wanted one. One that didn’t let him see the outline of each full breast. One that was navy, maybe, not this bright orange one with black horizontal stripes that demanded he look below her chin. For a while.

“So, can you help?” she asked. “I’ll buy you lunch afterwards. And, well, I thought you might like to see where I ended up.”

“I’d like that.” He cleared his throat. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

Another grin. “Oh, all right. If you must.”

He went into his room and locked the door. Then he wondered why he locked it, since his body would like nothing more than for her to come inside with him.

If I must?

Was she flirting with him?

Wildly scanning his closet for freshly ironed jeans and a dryer-sheet-scented polo shirt, Mark reminded himself of the couple next door. She must’ve just been over there, seen the lovebirds as she got her things. Blair was smiling a lot more, and John doted on her, always home, following her around.

Rose must’ve seen that, and then came straight over here.

To the guy with all those points to make.

He got dressed in his oldest jeans and a T-shirt from college and went out into the hallway. “Aren’t you afraid I won’t approve of your new home?”

She was studying the pictures on the walls. “Terrified.” She turned. “Shall we go?”

If she was disappointed in his humble outfit, she didn’t show it. He followed her down the stairs and out of the house. His mother, naturally, had disappeared.

The front seat was shoved all the way forward to make room for the cargo in the back. Mark had to fold his knees up to his chest and hold his breath to get the door closed.

 
She settled beside him, backed up into the street. “It’s a short drive. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine.”

She patted his left kneecap, which was only inches away from his left ear, laughing. “You’re flexible for such a big guy.”

“Or highly tolerant of pain.”

“Hang in there, it’s only a few minutes.”

Sure enough, while they were still up in the winding streets of the hills, Rose took a left turn and went up, not down. “It’s up here?”

“Shh.” She was still smiling.

“I thought you liked the hustle and bustle of the flats. The great metropolis.”

“The shopping,” she said.

“Yeah. What happened to that?”

She shrugged. “Wait until you see it. You’ll understand.”

After about five minutes she slowed in front of a very modern house with a closed gate blocking the driveway. She pulled the visor down and hit the button on a remote clipped over the mirror. The gate glided open and she drove in.

He turned to her, the question in his eyes.

“I know, huh? Wait until you see the inside,” she said.

The houses of this street were on a more gentle slope than Mark’s house, each set far enough back from the street and each other to have gardens, yards, full driveways.

“Will you be living in the servant quarters?” he asked. The houses on this street had to average in the millions.

She laughed and got out of the car. “Come on. Stretch those long legs of yours and see my palace.”

He stumbled out, rubbing life into his limbs, and watched her hips sway as she strode across the flagstone pathway to the oversized red front door.

“Or is this where you pick up the keys for your one-bedroom hovel off Telegraph Avenue?” he asked.