Like a punch to the gut, I realized this was the first time I wanted something my sister had. “The taping went so well that they decided to do another. I left so I wouldn't be late.”
“I appreciate that. Your sister always makes me wait. I can't stand that.”
“No wonder my dad likes you. He's a stickler for time, too.”
“Don't I know it? A surgery ran over a couple weeks ago and I was five minutes late for our tee time and he let me know about it. I felt like a kid in the principal's office.”
“It's best to know how crazy we are before you join our family.”
Cortland raised his left brow. “Why? You think I should marry your sister?”
I began feeling flustered and couldn't think straight. “Of course not. Or of course. I mean, what do I know? Or care? Of course, you should do what you want to do.”
“You still don't like your sister very much.”
“I love her. I'm just glad I don't have to live with her. It's you that has to make that decision.”
“Well, I did give her my house key,” he said, sticking his hands into his pocket.
“Oh,” I said, feeling my throat close up. “Well, looks like you're moving in that direction then.”
“Not necessarily. I don't know why I did it, truthfully. I guess I was feeling some pressure that she wanted our relationship to be going somewhere, so instead of saying anything, I handed her a key. Dopey caveman sort of move, I know. At least she can come and go as she pleases.”
“Right,” I said. “Like a maid.”
Cortland began to laugh and it was contagious, an icebreaker, demolishing something-sexual tension or jealousy or I don't know what, but it felt good. A house key meant they'd be having sex soon. Again, not that I cared.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement among the upper-class women wearing their cashmere jackets and designer jeans and boots that I half-hoped would get covered in dog poo. Were they talking about me? One woman stepped apart from the pack and I recognized her, even thirty feet away. Monica.
I couldn't run. Couldn't hide. She was coming toward me and I would have to think of something to say. My day that began with da Vinci peeing in my bed followed by great sex followed by meeting Cruella Fiancée. Life was one wicked roller coaster ride.
“You know Monica, right?” Cortland said as he wrapped Monica's lithe, tight body in a side hug.
“Not officially,” I said, nearly forgetting to stick my hand out for her to shake, but of course she would know what to do with it and she did. Very lawyery, firm handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Ramona,” she said, her white teeth shining even in the overcast afternoon.
“You, too,” I said stammering and wishing Cortland would go away.
“Sorry I haven't called you back yet,” Monica said. “It's been a crazy week.”
“Oh, same here,” I said. “We can get together another time.”
Monica pulled her Blackberry out of her jacket pocket and clicked a few times before looking back up at me. “What about Tuesday morning then? Same place?”
I-of the no-PDA, no-calendar, no-big life-stammered some more. “Perfect, fine, sure. That works. See you then.”
Monica turned her attention to Cortland. “You and Rachel still on for dinner at my place Sunday night?”
I could feel my jaw dropping. My sister dining with my pseudo-archenemy? No way.
“Rachel moved some stuff around so she can make it,” Cortland said. “We'll see you then.”
“We'll eat light,” Monica said. “Maybe Rachel can show me some exercises for my little baby gut here.” She patted her flatter than flat tummy. Her “baby” was two, and if a person's stomach could get any flatter, it would be concave.
“Oh, she loves personal lessons,” I said dryly.
Monica shook her head, puzzled.
“I'm sorry. I thought you knew,” Cortland said. “Rachel is Ramona's sister.”
“I didn't connect the dots,” Monica said.
But why would she? We didn't look a thing alike. If it weren't for inheriting the weird earlobe shape from my father, I would've sworn I belonged to the mailman. Mom always said she was a bored housewife before she found the Lord. I wouldn't have put an affair past her, back in what she called her “sinning days.”
As Monica left, her firm buttocks rocking to and fro in her jeans, we both watched her, and then I watched Cortland watching her, obviously liking what he saw, and I hated that I had to be jealous of him liking her, too.
“She's something else,” Cortland said, diverting his eyes from her finally. “I mean her success. And she's a nice person, too.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said, willing my voice not to give out on me. Nice I wasn't so sure about, but she was something else, something irresistible. Clearly every man admired her.
By the time Cortland and I had left in separate cars, we'd both gotten calls from our respective other halves, telling us that they were on such a roll, they wanted to record just one more show and to go ahead and start without them at the restaurant. No arguments here.
“Story of my life,” Cortland said, as we ordered our second bottle of wine. “Women always keep me waiting.”
“Look,” I said, feeling drunk-happy. “You told me I deserved a worthy bed, and I'm telling you that you deserve a worthy mate. Not one that keeps you waiting every time you turn around.”
“Is that so?” He refilled my glass of wine, though I certainly didn't need it. “You think I should dump your sister, then?”
“If I wouldn't miss you coming around, I'd say ‘Hell, yes‘ to that,” I said, clinking my glass with his.
“You think I call and come around because you're Rachel's sister?”
I snorted, an unattractive result of having drunk too much. “Um, duh? Why else would you call and come over all the time? Look, it's fine. Widow sympathy is a natural human phenomenon.”
Cortland reached his hand across the table and placed it over mine. “And here I thought you were the smart one in the family.”
Our eyes locked and I pulled away, excusing myself to go to the restroom and vowing to myself not to return until I knew da Vinci and Rachel had arrived. In the bathroom, I splashed water in my face, drank water out of my hand from the sink to try to sober up and stared at my raccoon eyes in the mirror. “What are you doing, Ramona Griffen?”
I freshened up my makeup and eventually felt clear-headed enough to return. I was an adult. I could tell Cortland that while I appreciated that he wanted to be friends, perhaps our flirtation had gone a little far, and it wasn't fair to either of our mates to ever be alone with each other again. Ever. After all, hadn't da Vinci said something about Cortland seeming fishy?
When I swung open the swanky bathroom door into the darkly lit hallway, arms reached around my waist, pulling me into the even darker corner. Cortland's face was inches from mine, his hot breath on my cheek. “Do you think I wanted this to happen? Because, believe me, the last few times we've been together have been sheer torture for me. I've felt something since the first time I saw you. I wanted to kiss you in my office and on the patio next to the pool and at the Starbucks and on that country road with the puppy asleep in the back and outside in the rain. How do you think it made me feel to lie on that bed with you in the department store with that lingerie you would wear for another guy? Or how just talking to you on the phone makes me feel weak inside, especially when you're talking about French kissing when I've wanted to know what it's like to kiss you for so long? I'm sorry, Goldilocks, but I just can't wait another minute.”