Best Of Everything Page 2

  “Married.” He frowns.

  “That’s legal here now, right?”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’re so cute.” He scowls. “It’s worse than that. He’s married to a woman.”

  “But I thought…” I stop. I can see the problem. “I see. She doesn’t know.”

  He shakes his head. “The man looks like Ricky Martin and loves show tunes more than I do, but no, apparently she’s oblivious. Like I said: complicated.”

  “Poor thing. And he’s cheating on her,” I say, and immediately regret it. But I can’t help it – I can too easily put myself in the wife’s position. I hope I don’t sound judgmental.

  “I know. He’s completely torn up by it. Or so he says. I told him he should just tell her and be done with it – what’s the point in living a lie? This isn’t 1952. But he’s a totally straight-laced Wall Street banker guy, and I get the impression that he’s where he is because of her family… Oh, Sage. Nothing’s easy, is it?”

  We decide to hail a taxi, and as we make our way downtown in the nighttime traffic, we’re both silent, lost in our thoughts.

  Jeremy’s right about one thing.

  Nothing’s easy. Ever. But for Derek and me, it just got a whole lot harder.

  Chapter 2

  My cell vibrates as the taxi pulls up to our building. Jeremy pays the driver while I fumble it out of my jacket and look at the screen. It’s Derek.

  “Hey,” I say. Jeremy tactfully slides out of the cab.

  “Hey. Sorry it took so long.”

  “You had a lot of catching up to do,” I say, trying not to sound bitter. Epic fail on that.

  “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  “Can I come over?”

  My response catches in my throat. Part of me wants to say, of course, get over here right now – clothes optional – but another part doesn’t want to see him. I can feel the inner conflict, and I don’t say anything. The driver glances at me in his mirror and raises an eyebrow. “You want to go somewhere, or is this it?” he asks.

  I take the hint and swing my door open. Jeremy’s waiting for me on the stoop. Derek’s voice comes back over the line. “Did you hear me?”

  I can’t just stare at the phone and breathe heavily. I have to make a decision. I flew all the way across the country to spend precious hours with Derek, and now I’m waffling?

  “Sure. I’ll stay up. Buzz me when you’re downstairs.”

  We tromp up to the apartment. Jeremy disappears into his room and emerges moments later with a small black box of chocolates. I want to cry, but instead I sit and wait for him to plop down next to me. I select a truffle and bite into it – I can tell it’s super high quality, but it still tastes chalky and flat to me. Jeremy nibbles at a wafer and gives me an expectant look.

  “Was that Mr. Man?”

  “Yes. He’ll be by soon.”

  “Ah, well, then no Liza tonight. Such is life. How did he sound?”

  Fair question. I consider an appropriate word before answering. “Defeated.”

  Jeremy nods. “Can’t imagine eighteen with a baby is going to boost anyone’s spirits. He probably feels like the world kicked him in the jewels. Lord knows I would.”

  “Especially with everything going on. The tour starting soon, and…”

  Jeremy fixes me with a frank stare. “And the two of you becoming, how shall we say it tactfully, an item?”

  “That too.”

  “Well, sweetie, I’m going to leave you to prepare for his arrival. I love drama as much as the next girl, but this is a little too heavy. And I’ve got my own cross to bear.”

  I try a smile. “What’s his name, anyway?”

  “Eric. And he looks like an Eric. Only better. Eric with whipped cream on top.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  Jeremy sighs. “You have no idea.”

  “Thanks for putting us on the list. I really did think the show was incredible. I can see why your reviews are so good.”

  “If your scheme is to be nice so I’ll leave the chocolates with you, it’s not going to work.” He stands.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  He touches the corner of his mouth with his little finger. “You have chocolate here,” he says.

  I move my hand to my face and then stop, giving him a sidelong glance. “Liar.”

  He sighs again. “I must be losing my edge. I’ll have to work on that.”

  “Good night, Jeremy. Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure, ma chère. All in a day’s work.” Jeremy leans over and gives me a chaste peck on the cheek and then sashays to his room, candy in hand. I watch him and shake my head. I’m lucky to have such a good friend. True, his life’s as chaotic as mine, but he’s a genuinely good guy and means well. And he’s obviously torn up by his situation with Eric, just as I am with Derek. If nothing else, we can commiserate – misery does love company.

  I return to Melody’s message as I wait for Derek.

  Me: So WWMD?

  She responds almost instantaneously.

  Mel: Stand by your man. And kick that biatch to the curb.

  Me: Easier said.

  Mel: LIAB.

  Me: ???

  Mel: Love is a battlefield. Bring out the nukes.

  Melody’s not going to be much help, I can see.

  Me: So sex?

  Mel: Always. You’re his woman now.

  Me: Tell his kid that.

  Mel: Details.

  My phone vibrates. Derek’s calling.

  Me: Gotta go.

  I get up and press the intercom button for several seconds to open the door downstairs, and when I hear Derek’s boots on the stairs, unlock the deadbolts. He looks like he’s been through hell, which he probably has over the last few hours.

  I hold the door open and he steps inside. Before I know what’s happening, his strong arms are wrapped around me. He smells like that unique combination of leather, shampoo, and musk that is Derek, and as conflicted as I am, my arms slip around his waist and I lean my head back. His lips descend to mine and connect, and I’m lost.

  After what seems like hours I pull back and stare him full in the eyes. “Want to tell me what happened?”

  He exhales noisily and the moment’s over. Both of us return to the real world as abruptly as if we’ve been plunged into ice water. Derek moves to the couch and strips off his jacket.

  “Is Jeremy home?”

  I nod. “He crashed.”

  “How was the show?”

  “Amazeballs. You missed out.” I sit on the sofa next to him, but not right next to him. The slim strip of fabric between us might as well be radioactive. “How did it go with what’s her name?”

  “Lisa.” He seems to be trying to find the right words, and when he speaks, his voice is uncertain. “We hung out together when I was in Seattle. For like, a month. She was on the street too and wasn’t doing so great. Getting hassled all the time. I stood up for her, and we hooked up.” He shrugged. “It was no big deal. Neither of us was…it was real easygoing. No future in it, but it worked at the time.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told her I was going to bail on the city, and she went back home. She hates her mom, but I guess they made up because I never heard from her again.”

  “Right. But she went home with a surprise,” I say flatly.

  “She says she didn’t even know she was pregnant for a few months.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure. It’s not like there aren’t any signs, Derek.”

  “Apparently she thought her body was being funky when she missed her first period, and then she says she wasn’t paying attention when she missed her second.”

  “Wasn’t paying attention? That’s bullshit. I mean, it’s not like you have to put it on the calendar. I kind of know how it works.”

  “She says she had a lot of other stuff happening. Going back to school. Making peace with mom.”

  “Okay…so then she finds out she’s pregnant.” />
  “Right. And I’m gone. She doesn’t know where. I told her maybe Las Vegas, maybe Los Angeles, maybe San Francisco. So now she’s pregnant, no dad around. Needless to say, that didn’t do wonders for her relationship with her mother.”

  I try to imagine how things would have gone if I’d shown up back at home and announced to Ralph and my mom that I was with child. I’d rather be flayed alive and dragged behind a bus. In spite of myself, I feel a little sorry for Lisa.

  “Anyway, she has the baby. Mom wants her to put him up for adoption, but she won’t. Things are tense and getting worse. Then she sees me on TV and freaks out. She doesn’t tell her mother it’s me, and she’s not sure how she feels about me not knowing. But one night she breaks down and admits she knows where the father is, and her mom goes into full-on action mode. You can imagine – saying that he’s half my responsibility, he deserves a dad, I need to step up, yadda yadda. She tells her mom who I am, and her mom says she needs to come to New York and talk to me. No telephones.” He pauses. “And that’s where we are.”

  We’re both quiet. When I finally say something, it’s all wrong. “You must have liked her, Derek.” I know I shouldn’t go there. The problem isn’t whether he was into Lisa or just wanted to have some fun. The problem’s about six months old and named Jason.

  “Sage…” He shakes his head. “It was so long ago. I mean, so much has happened. My brother had just died; I was…all over the place. She needed someone to look out for her. I think when Paul died, I maybe thought I could make up for it by protecting her. I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t hurt that she’s cute.”

  Derek ignores that. He rises and begins pacing. “I’m just not sure what to do about any of this. I mean, it’s all…it’s a lot to absorb.”

  “What does she want to do?”

  He doesn’t say anything. I can feel my face flushing, and I close my eyes. Of course. What would any female want to do if Derek, who is now famous, was the father of her child? Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she wants. I stand, not trusting my emotions.

  Derek stops pacing and turns to me. “Sage, don’t worry. I’m not going to let this come between us.”

  “Right. Your new son and your ex. No big deal. We’ll work around it.” I sigh. “I’m tired, Derek. I’m going to bed.”

  “Sage, really. These last few days have been…incredible. Whatever happens with Lisa and Jason, we’re together.”

  “Just the four of us.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I mean, I need to think this through. She wants me to see Jason, thinks it’s important.” He hesitates. “I think it’s important to have a dad, too.”

  I have no comeback for that. My dad walking out on us screwed up my whole life, so I can’t come down on the side of no father…but I don’t want to have to agree, either.

  “I guess. I don’t want to talk about it right now, Derek.” I walk to the bedroom.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  I look at him, green eyes glinting in the light of the overhead lamp, his form-fitting black T-shirt clinging to his sculpted torso, and hate myself as I shrug. “Do whatever you want. I need to sleep.”

  I brush my teeth and change into shorts and an oversized T-shirt. The lights are off and I’m pretending I’m asleep when he comes in and strips off his pants and climbs into bed next to me.

  I spend the next hour faking slumber, my mind racing in ugly directions as I wonder if he’s also awake, which I suspect he is from his breathing. I want to turn to him and take him in my arms, feel his hard body against mine, wrap my legs around him and lose myself with him.

  But I don’t. Instead I make myself miserable, and when I finally drift off, it’s into an uneasy and restless sleep filled with ugly premonitions.

  Chapter 3

  If I’m expecting the morning to arrive and wash away my problems with the rising sun, it’s a letdown, because when I wake up I feel like crap. My head hurts from tension, my eyes feel like I’ve got grit in them, and my mouth tastes like metal. Derek’s snoring softly beside me, and I crack an eye open. I’m facing him, but there’s a foot or so of space between us. Even in sleep he’s gorgeous, and my heart skips a beat. Here’s the man of my dreams, everything I want…and I don’t know how to react.

  I think about Melody’s advice, which is to get busy with sexytime. But I can’t help feeling hesitant. I need to feel close, feel like it’s more than just our bodies – which immediately takes me to a place I don’t want to be: thinking about Derek and Lisa together.

  But I can’t stop it. I’m wondering what he did with her, whether they shared the same heat, how often they did it, and the mental images make me want to cut my brain out and flush it. I know I’m in a danger zone now, and I quickly clamp down on the negative loop. That was the past, and Derek was clear about the present. I need to find a way to be happy with that, not poison my today with speculations about his yesterday.

  Which is all fine in theory, but more difficult in practice. I can intellectualize all I want, but I can never unknow what I was blissfully ignorant of. Making peace with images of Derek and Lisa sharing what he and I now have is going to be harder than snapping my fingers. I know myself too well.

  I stir, and my head sends a flare of pain through my eyes. I hope my sharp intake of breath doesn’t wake Derek, but he’s still out cold. At that moment I envy him, but after glancing at my watch and calculating the few hours of rest I got, I realize it’s more about pitying me – and I completely did it to myself.

  I push the sheet aside and swing my legs off the bed. The wood floor is cool. I pad to the bathroom, taking care to close the door softly behind me, and set about my morning ritual. When I’m done showering, I consider myself in the mirror, and Lisa’s image springs into mind. I look at my breasts and frown at myself – hers are bigger. My eyes glow blue in the light from the window, but hers are violet – a more interesting color.

  After I finish beating myself up and building my inadequacy brick by miserable brick, I offer my reflection a smile. One of us is a rising star. That’s got to count for something. And one of us has Derek in her bed; the other, not so much. I don’t feel much like gloating, but it’s a victory. Maybe I’m reading too much into her looks. Could be she’s a dolt. Or really irritating.

  I swallow two aspirin, cupping the foul-tasting tap water into my mouth with my hands, and debate swabbing on some eyeliner. I decide not to – no point in drawing attention to any dark circles under my eyes.

  When I step out of the bathroom, Derek hasn’t moved. I sit in a battered overstuffed chair near the curtained window and gaze at him, the muted sound of traffic outside a constant background din I’ve gotten used to. He’s got one arm under that gorgeous head of his, lips slightly open as if in invitation, and his expression is serene. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, making him look somehow childlike and vulnerable, and it’s all I can do to resist the urge to jump on him.

  As if sensing my gaze on him, he slowly stretches and opens his eyes, fixing me with a sleepy stare. He rubs his face with his hand and runs his fingers through his hair, which only makes it stand up more, resembling a haystack in a strong wind.

  He clears his throat and gives me a fatigued grin. “Hey.”

  “Good morning. I thought you were going to sleep all day. I’ve been up for hours.” Only a little white lie.

  “Damn. What time is it?”

  “Nine thirty.”

  He squints at the window. “That’s not so late.”

  “It’s my last day in New York. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Derek sits up, looking cautiously interested. “What do we have planned? Hang out at Lucifer’s for old times’ sake?”

  “Hardly. I was thinking we could go to the Statue of Liberty. And maybe see where you’re staying. I’m curious about where you live.”

  “It’s a shithole. But cheap.”

  “Magic words. You had me at shit.”

 
We laugh together, and the tension that’s twisting in my gut relaxes a bit. It’s the same Derek as yesterday morning, the same easy grin, the same incredibly sexy manner. He climbs out of bed and stretches again, and I begin rethinking my commitment to staying troubled. I can always go back to concerned tomorrow, when I don’t have the hottest guy on the planet half naked in front of me.

  He doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. “You already use the bathroom?”

  “I’m dressed, aren’t I?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I’m still a little out of it. Let me take a shower and I’ll be raring to go.”

  The door closes behind him and I feel better. None of this is his fault. He didn’t intend to introduce a ton of drama into our lives. He’s probably less happy about the situation than I am. He’s the one who’s got to deal with the fallout. I’m getting on a plane.

  I’m rising out of my chair to go into the bathroom as I hear the shower go on when the follow-on thought stops me cold. I’m flying back to California, leaving Derek behind.

  With Lisa.

  In the cold, lonely city.

  Because a son deserves to have a father.

  And maybe mom deserves to have another bite of that love muffin that made her a mom in the first place? I saw the way she looked at Derek. He may think there’s nothing there between them anymore, but Lisa’s eyes tell a different story.

  I feel like a ping-pong ball being swatted back and forth. I should just do what Melody would: pull off my clothes and go rub all over him in the shower. Give him something to remember me by in case Lisa has any bright ideas.

  Then I hear the water shut off and the chance is lost. Another triumph for uncertainty, I think as I reach for my charging cell phone. Melody’s sent the URL for a gossip site that’s featuring photos of Derek and me taken by one of the autograph hounds. In the first, Derek looks like he was just told he was under arrest, and the expression on my face is of someone who’s been gut shot. The headline says it all: “Holy Sh#t, I Did What?!?”

  The next is from the same angle, and all you can see is the blurry image of a baby being held toward Derek. At this point I look like I just mouth vomited and it’s coming through my nose. Nice. Derek looks like the devil’s risen from a manhole and is showing him his future.