Zenith Falling (26 page)

Back upstairs,
he knocked lightly on the bedroom door, and entered when no response came. The bathroom door was closed, so he set Joelle’s stuff on the bed. She adjusted the covers and straightened up the bed. He went back into his closet and found a pair of pressed black slacks, a button-up silk shirt in a deep burgundy, with a wide, stylish collar and no pockets. He was tying his black shoes when the bathroom door opened. Joelle stepped out with a towel wrapped around her, that came to her shins. Her hair was brushed back, and tied at the nape of her neck with a rubber band. She glanced his way, and then stopped abruptly.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know; any ideas?” he asked, looking back at his shoes.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?” Her tone was off, and he looked up, frowning. Why was she standing there as if frozen and scowling with disdain at him?

She groaned.
“Up. Why are you dressed up, Nick? You had jeans on a moment ago.”

“
That was just to grab your clothes.”

She
shook her head, clutching at the top of her towel. It wasn’t like her cleavage was large enough to support the weight of the towel there. “God! You’re like the girl, and I’m the guy.”

He stood up and put his hands on his hips.
“What do you mean?”

She pointed at him, then herself.
“Look at us. I have grubby jeans and boots, and you’re in designer label slacks and silk shirt, all of which are new, this year, while mine are at least four years old. Nothing about us or our lives harmonizes.”

“They don’t have to match. These are just clothes. I didn’t mean anything. Want me to change back into jeans?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No. I don’t. You just always look the part of who you are. You always look great. I don’t. Can’t. Won’t.”

“What makes you think I care?
I don’t. I just… I’ve always had a thing about my own clothes. In high school, I worked every afternoon so I could buy designer jeans because my mother tried to buy the off brand. It’s just me, and not a reflection on you.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Look, if it bothers you. I’ll change.”

“Nick
, the jeans you had on had a perfect crease in them. They looked as neat as your slacks.”

“Well
, I could sit on them a few times if that would help.”

Her shoulders dropped, but she shook her head with a laugh
. “You always look gorgeous; it’s me who needs all the help.”

He
stepped closer to her, and touched her cheek. “I don’t care what you wear.”

Her lips tilted up.
“You just care what you wear.”

“Yes. I do. Sorry, it’s just a thing with me.”

“If you weren’t so gorgeous, it could become annoying.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”
His eyebrows raised with surprised.

“Obviously.”

“No. Not obviously.”

She tipped her head back. “You’re worried about my opinion of you?”

“Of course, I am. Your past tastes were men who weren’t corporate, well-dressed, well appointed, glasses-wearing types, now were they?”

“No, they weren’t.
”

“You enjoy it when I’m unsure of you?”

“Of course, I do. You’re always sure, I’m not. You really think because of how Rob looks, that he’s my type?”

“
Well, isn’t he?”

“I hated you the first time I saw you.”

“Yeah, that’s helping. Thanks.”

“Because you looked so perfect standing there. So put together, successful, confident, and God, so sexy, my breath caught. I wondered who had the right to be so well adjusted, and look like you did. Then, after catching me in front of what I felt was a loser group, I wanted to melt away.”

“You thought that?”

“Yes. And every time I saw you after, I could hardly look at you because I was so attracted to you. And I didn’t understand it. Or have a clue what to do about it.”

He went completely still. “I never once knew you thought that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I know what to do about it.”

“Just for the record, I don’t either. And there is no reading your reaction to anything, Joelle.”

“At least, you try. Rob never could read me either,
but he didn’t even bother to try.”

She turned and rifled through her pile of clothes. Finding her underwear, she slipped them on under the towel, and pulled her bra on. He watched her because he could, because he always longed to have this kind of familiarity, the opportunity to simply be with her for a long time. She moved with small movements: delicate, soft, feminine, even though she tried hard not to appear so. She flipped her long ponytail out of the shirt she pulled o
ver her head.

Barefoot
, she sat on the bed as she threw her hair over her shoulder and braided it into a long tight braid. Wrapping around the rubber band, she almost tied it around her head. She pulled several cosmetics out of her purse, went into the bathroom, and returned within minutes. She wore very little this time, eye stuff, and blush maybe. He wondered what prompted her to put thick bands of it on sometimes, and hardly any at others.

When she stopped and looked up at him expectantly, he asked, “Y
ou’re ready?”

She hesitated. “Don’t I look it?”

“I’m used to Erica. She takes about an hour and a half from start to finish. It only took you about ten minutes.”

“I don’t look like a beautiful, tall, blonde model.”

“No. But I sure like the difference in waiting time.”

She followed him out of his room
and the condo after he grabbed a leather jacket, his keys and his wallet. Then he took her hand in the hall, and waited for the elevator. He felt her stiffen when he grabbed her hand, and she glanced at him, looking unsure. He ignored it, and continued to hold her hand as he would any date he’d just slept with. He didn’t know what else to do, but date her as if she weren’t married, weren’t separated, weren’t traumatized, weren’t in love with her husband, and weren’t in love with him. He only knew he should date her like they were average and normal, with every reasonable chance of becoming a couple.

What other choice did he have?

Once on the street, he glanced down the sidewalk. The daylight was fading into twilight, in the cool, clear Seattle air. Streetlights were already coming on, and lights shone from random windows up and down the buildings that towered over them. He started up the street, towards the waterfront. She came along, quiet as always, with her taking two steps to his one. Her hand was small in his, and to him, it felt like holding his niece, Poppy’s, hand. All except the smooth gold band she wore on her ring finger, her wedding band. He felt it, but didn’t know quite what to make of it, or what to surmise.

“Nick?”

He glanced down at her tipped up face, and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Let’s not go anywhere that’s too, you know, Nick-like. Just something casual.”

“Nick-like?”

“The clothes, the car, the condo, the offices, the buildings, the hundred employees, you know the extravaganc
e that you surround yourself in? Not tonight. Just something low key. No symphony, no fancy dinner. Normal. Like where any other couple would go.”

“Normal. Normal
is not Nick-like?”

She smiled
, and blushed before looking away. “No, not like you.”

“I was planning on it. There’s this seafood grill down on the waterfront, a couple of blocks. Is that normal enough? It has plastic booths and big
, crusty, stained menus.”

“Sounds normal enough to me.”

They walked for a bit and finally came to it. It had big fake clams and a rope twisting around the illuminated sign that said,
Seawarfs
. Inside, they were seated at a booth, where they ordered and finally could look at each other over a table and drinks with some sense of normalcy on a regular date.

Joelle
would hardly meet his gaze. She looked around the restaurant as if he’d taken her to the top of the Space Needle and she was overseeing the city lights. She watched people come in, and walk out, as well as the waitresses moving around. He wondered what she thought, and could only guess at what she was feeling. No doubt, guilt about being here and being alone with him like this.

She lay her hand on the table, and he reached over
and casually took it in his. She looked up, startled again at the familiar contact, then nothing. But it seemed like everything to her.

She licked her lips before asking,
“Did you run into Erica?”

“Yes. And yeah; she guessed why I was walking across her living room with a handful of your clothes.”

“What did she say?”

“Besides giving me a gloating smile that said she told me so?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“I don’t know. Be nice to Joell
e. And oh yeah, she hates your money, so good luck with that.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“Just about. And you do.”

“I just don’t like needing it so much lately.”

“Not tonight you don’t.”

“Was Erica mad at me?”

“You? No.”

“And you two really are just friends?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I guess because our relationship never progressed much beyond the point of being friends. It’s hard to hate someone whom you never really felt passionate about.”

“I don’t get it. Have you looked at her?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve looked at her. She didn’t do it for me, I guess.”

“How could she not?”

“Because you do it for me.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and she visibly swallowed. She
stopped talking. She didn’t know what to say to that.

“How long did you two date?”

He leaned back against the booth and asked with a smile, “Why all the questions about Erica? Are you trying to fix me back up with her?”

“No. It’s just where the conversation led. I’ve always wanted to know. I didn’t think it was my place to ask.”

“You can ask me anything you want, at any time. I’ve never hid things from you. Erica and I met a couple of years ago. We were dating for about a year or so before I met you. So do the math.”

“That’s awhile.”

“Had longer.”

“You have? I didn’t realize that. What’s your longest?”

“Four years.”

“What happened?”

“She moved to the East Coast for work, and I didn’t. It died a natural, long distance death.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes, I did. If she hadn’t moved, I’d probably be married to her now. I was in my late twenties, and she was too. She was a lawyer in one of the firms I used.”

“Why didn’t you follow her then?”

“Why didn’t she stay? I don’t know. I guess we didn’t love each other enough.”

“It must be easy for you to get a date.”

“Yes. The gold-diggers crawl right out of the woodwork.”

“Don’t you hate that?”

“Depends on what I’m after, and if I care about what they’re after.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, like with Erica, I knew she was into who I was, and that’s probably why she wanted to date me. She was way too successful, and too classy to pretend to be into me just for my money. Others are after the money, and that’s when I use it, to use them.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it? I’m not looking for a relationship with those women. Why would I? Sometimes I want a relationship, sometimes I just want to get laid. I told you, it depends on who I’m with, and what I’m after.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so honest.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

She raised an eyebrow.
“Except for when you think it’s for my own good.”

He grinned.
“Except then.”

“You don’t even try to deny it?”

“No.”

“What are you after with me?”

He caught and held her gaze in a smoldering, heated moment. She dropped her eyes to her lap. “That’s best answered when you’re not married.”

Dinner was set before them. She looked down,
then back up. She obviously didn’t know what to say about his Rob-statement. Maybe saying nothing was better. It was too soon. They weren’t “there” yet. They weren’t ready to discuss her husband. She picked up the piece of fish from her fish ‘n’ chips selection and bit into it, grabbing for her water as the hot steam rose up and painfully singed her mouth.

He ate some of his own, and let her eat in peace. He’d said enough for now. Her being there on a date with him, talking to him, even asking him questions was quite enough.