Cortland saw beyond the ducks. Besides, he claimed he liked to renovate. “My wife wanted everything brand new,” he complained. “I like to fix things with my own hands.”
Which got me to thinking about his hands: ones that had lulled people to sleep for surgery, ones that had pulled out a beautiful baby girl the day before, ones that had roamed over my body at the restaurant two weeks prior.
“At least da Vinci has no ex,” Anh went on.
“I'm not so sure,” I said, tossing her an envelope he'd gotten in the mail that day. It would've been an ordinary air-mail envelope, save for two things: the penmanship was beautiful, carefully scripted by someone who relished writing da Vinci's name, and the return address noted the sender as Chiara, which meant “bright and famous.” None of his sisters were named Chiara, I knew, and I doubt they would've spritzed the envelope with perfume, either.
“Smells sexy,” Anh said. “I thought he didn't have anyone special back home?”
“Who knows,” I downed the Flirtini as Anh poured me another. “He's at another frat party tonight, so I'll ask him tomorrow. I hate feeling jealous.”
“Of Chiara or the frat party?”
“Both. When I'm away from him, I start thinking I'd be okay with him leaving, but as soon as I see him, I want him again.”
“It's the pheromones. He's a magnet guy. You can't help being drawn to him. Especially with amazing sex. He got chakra two back in action. As long as he doesn't make a habit of peeing in the bed.”
I considered the sex, wishing I hadn't gotten used to it. Da Vinci did things to me I'd never let Joel do. I'd been so afraid to explore with Joel, afraid he would think badly of me, especially after we had kids. The sex kept the loneliness at bay. I grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry from the dish on the table. Anh insisted our Girls' Night In consist of more than Ruffles and ranch dip this time, so she set us up properly: sushi, loads of chocolate and enough Flirtini mix for a party of twelve. “So you were saying… about being in a threesome with my sister?”
“Ugh. This is why I can't date Michael. She calls him nearly every day, and it's not always about Zoe, although she had a mouthful to say about your little stunt at the pageant.”
“Well, Zoe gets to play soccer now, so it was worth it.”
“Michael thinks she'll flip out when she hears we're dating, and I stopped him and said, 'Excuse me? We're dating? Because I thought we were just sleeping together.'”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. So he goes, 'Fine, then I'll return the tickets to the Bahamas I ordered on Priceline.com today.'”
“You can't resist a guy who knows how to find a good deal.”
“Or a beach far, far away from my grandmotherhood.”
“Where is Vi tonight?”
“With her mother.”
“On a Saturday night?”
“Don't even get me started.”
“Fine. I'd rather hear more about you and Michael. And I'd love to see you and my sis in a bitch-slap contest.”
“Funny. I don't know who she'd hate worse: me for screwing her ex or you for kissing her current.”
“He's dumping her.”
“Time will tell.”
“No, he wants to buy Mrs. Thompson's house. Probably already made the offer.”
“The duck house?”
“He's into home improvement.”
“Thrifty with his money, too, huh?”
“If he didn't break up with Rachel, his downsizing alone would cause her to break up with him.”
“Crap,” she said. “No offense to you, but I wish things would've worked out with her and Cortland just so she'd have a diversion.”
“Her diversion is her career. Besides, maybe she'll hook up with Leonardo DiCaprio tonight.”
“Her head wouldn't fit on the plane. So does this mean that my widowy friend now has two guys in her life?”
“I can feel da Vinci slipping from my grasp. He says he loves me, but I think he's just scared to let go. I've been his lifeline in America up to now, and maybe he's been mine, getting back out there again, but being with him isn't the same as being with an American or someone my own age. He's as lost as I am.”
“We all need something or someone to hold onto.”
“This coming from someone who swore she'd never love again.”
“I'm not loving again. I'm liking. And I can like going to the Bahamas, too.”
“Well, maybe you should start being a little nicer to him, then. Just because he's a lawyer doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings.”
“Nice? What am I, a putz? Maybe I'll just call and see if he needs some company later.” Anh grabbed up the phone.
“Oh, my God, you're making a booty call and you've only had two drinks.”
“Am not,” she said. “Besides, your booty call is on autopilot. Some of us have to work at it.”
“Whatever.” I poured myself another Flirtini, swearing it would be my last and thankful the boys were staying at Judith's. The doorbell rang. I wondered if da Vinci had changed his mind about the party and wanted to make our own instead. I slunk over to the door and nearly dropped my martini glass when I saw who was staring back at me, as handsome as the photos in his yearbook-older certainly, but distinguished and still All-American.
“Jonathon.” I said, trying to shake off the effect of my three drinks. Perhaps he was a mirage.
He wore a jogging suit, and sweat was trickling down his hairline, but he was still gorgeous, perspiration or not. “Ramona? I'm sorry to drop in like this, but I was out jogging and…”
“Not exactly on your jogging path.” His and Cortland's neighborhood was at least five miles from mine.
“Monica told me you two were going to meet.”
“She did?”
“She's still sick at home, but…”
“Yes, come in, of course.” I stepped back to let him pass, as Anh made her way into the foyer. Her mouth dropped open.
“Anh, this is Jonathon. Jonathon Blevins.”
She tossed her hair back, a classic flirtation, brought on by his looks and the aptly named drink. “Can I get you a Flirtini?”
“A what?”
Anh and I giggled. How girlish. Men like Jonathon probably didn't drink Flirtinis. “It's good I promise. And we won't tell anyone you drank one.”
Jonathon removed his jacket, revealing a Nike shirt clinging to his ripped stomach and biceps even bigger than da Vinci's. “Sure,” he said. “After I drink a bucket of water.”
We stared at him before Anh broke into a surprised smile. “Not sure about the bucket, but I think we're good on the tall glass.”
“Can I get you a T-shirt? I have some of Joel's packed away in the closet. At least Joel liked to wear them big.”
Jonathon flinched at the sound of his friend's name. “That'd be great.”
An hour later, Jonathon was drunk on Flirtinis and Anh excused herself. “I have a thing I have to do.”
“His name is Michael,” I said with a laugh.
She playfully slapped me. “Jonathon, it was nice to meet you. I think you and my friend Michael would love to talk shop. I'll call you.”
Jonathon kissed her on the cheek, and Anh blushed. Now I got it: I'd thought Monica was a heartless bitch for breaking Joel's heart, but being around Jonathon, even after just an hour, I could see why she was torn between the two for more than a decade. He was everything Joel wasn't and vice versa. I got what Monica meant about the two of them together being the perfect man. Still. It didn't make what she did any less awful. Same goes for Jonathon.