“I'll bet I can guess why too. No room for a baby. God, you're stubborn!”
“Look who's talking!” She teased him then about some positions he'd taken that week that weren't entirely reasonable, but he had dug in his heels and refused to be swayed, no matter how much she argued with him.
“So you've figured that out, have you?” He looked vaguely embarrassed as he poured her another glass of wine, and they sat in his comfortable living room for hours, talking. It was after midnight when she finally went home. And he was back at her front door at eleven the next morning, to take her to the football game, and his kids were with him. They swarmed over her apartment like little bees. The girls both thought it was “cool,” and Andy said he liked it.
And they had a ball at the football game. The Broncos won, and Andy was outraged. But other than that, they had a great time, eating hot dogs and peanuts and ice cream. And when they left, without even thinking about it, she went back to the house with them, and helped Cal cook them dinner. It was nice being with them, and being part of a family, and she was actually sorry when Cal took her home that night, and she thanked him for a wonderful weekend.
“I had the best time.” She had seen him all three days, for a variety of events, all of them enjoyable and none of them boring. “I hope your kids didn't mind my hanging around.”
“Not at all. They loved it. You set a great example for the girls, it shows them that women can be smart and beautiful and successful and nice. That's important for them.”
“Well, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Please thank them for me. And thank you, Cal.”
“You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, Meredith. And I hope you know that.” It seemed a serious moment between them, and then he lightened it immediately. “Besides, Charlie McIntosh wasn't nearly as pretty as you are.” They both laughed and he left her then, and told her he'd see her at the office, and a few minutes after she got in, Steve called.
“Where the hell have you been all weekend?”
She was surprised by his tone, it wasn't like him to be that angry. But their current living arrangement was putting a considerable strain on both of them, and she was willing to be understanding about it.
“I've been everywhere. The dinner with customers I told you about on Friday night. I looked for houses in the city on Saturday. I had dinner at Cal's last night. And they took me to a football game today. I just walked in the door five minutes ago, sweetheart.” She thought it accounted perfectly for her whereabouts, but he was even more furious when she was finished.
“Are you telling me you spent the whole weekend with him? Why don't you just move in with him while you're at it?”
“Come on, Steve, don't be silly. I had nothing else to do this weekend.”
“You were supposed to be here.” He sounded petulant and childish.
“And you're working today, so I couldn't have been with you anyway. So why make a big deal about it?”
“Did you find a house?” he snapped at her. She didn't like the tone of the conversation, and wondered if he'd had a bad day, or was just tired. It wouldn't have been surprising.
“Not yet. But I'm looking.”
“It can't be that hard. The paper was full of houses for sale when I was out there.”
“I haven't liked anything I've seen, Steve. Relax. We have time, and the apartment is fine here.”
“Then maybe you should try spending some time in it, and not spending all your time at Cal's house.”
“Come on, Steve, for chrissake. I was there for a business dinner on Friday, and hanging out with his kids today. Don't make it a big deal when it isn't.” She was startled to realize he was jealous.
“You hate kids. So tell me, what's the big attraction, or do we both know what it is? Is that what all this is about, Merrie? Are you falling for him? Is that why you haven't been home in three weeks? Am I just being a fool here?”
“Of course not. We're just friends, sweetheart. You know that. You met him. I don't know that many people here yet, and he felt badly that he got me stuck here this weekend.”
“He should feel like shit about it,” Steve was almost shouting at her, “he spent the weekend with my wife, and I didn't.”
“Baby, calm down. I told you. I'll be home next weekend. There is absolutely nothing between me and Callan Dow, except work and friendship.”
“I'm not so sure of that. I saw the guy. He's handsome, successful, charming, and he looks like he'd pounce on you, given half a chance. I know that type.” He was being completely irrational, and she knew it.
“If he were going to do a stupid thing like that, he'd have done it when we were traveling together, and I wouldn't be working for him now. I have no interest whatsoever in getting ‘pounced’ on. And he is not that kind of guy. He's a perfect gentleman, and you know it.”
“I don't know what I know anymore, but whatever this is, I don't like it. You're leading a completely independent life, like a single woman.”
“That is absolute crap, Steve Whitman. I'm doing my job, and trying to find a house for us. This isn't easy for either of us, but if you're going to be stupid about it, and make insane accusations about Cal Dow, you're going to make it even harder. He's my boss. What do you expect me to do? Refuse to see him?” She was making sense, but he still didn't like the situation.
“No … I guess not … I just hate having you so far away. It's harder than I thought. I thought you'd be home every weekend. I didn't realize I'd be seeing you once a month. This just isn't working.” He suddenly sounded depressed more than angry.
“I know, baby. I'll be home next weekend, come hell or high water. I promise,” she said gently.
“You'd better.”
“I'll be there.”
And when she started to get a cold on Thursday night, she didn't say a word. She just loaded up on pills the next day, and got on the flight. But by the time she got to New York, she was coughing, had a pounding headache, and an earache. And when she got to the apartment, she looked awful. She had gotten stuck at the office and missed the earlier flight. She didn't land at Kennedy till midnight.
Steve had dinner waiting for her, and a bottle of champagne, and it was one A.M. when she walked in the door, and all she wanted was her bed, but she sat at dinner with him, and drank champagne, and pretended to feel better than she did. But he could see she was feeling lousy. He was dying to make love to her, but she ached all over by the time she got into bed, even her skin hurt, and when he touched her, he could tell she had a fever.
“Poor baby,” he said, feeling sorry for her. He took her temperature and she had 101.4. He gave her Tylenol, and tucked her in, but in the morning she felt worse instead of better.
“You probably shouldn't have flown,” he said, feeling guilty.
“You'd have killed me if I hadn't come home,” she said, coughing.
“You're right. I probably would have.” He smiled at her.
She spent the whole weekend in bed. By Sunday the fever was down, and they went for a walk on Sunday afternoon, and he seemed depressed, although they had finally made love that morning. But neither of them was in great spirits. She was planning to take the last flight to San Francisco that night, and get in late, but she'd be at her office in the morning.
“It's only for another seven weeks,” she reminded him, as he cooked her dinner, but she wasn't hungry. She picked at it, in order to please him.
“It seems like forever,” he said grimly. And it did, to both of them, but there was nothing they could do about it. They just had to grit their teeth and get through it.
She wasn't planning to come back until two weeks later, for Thanksgiving. They had promised to go to the Lucases’ for dinner.
Steve took her to the airport that night, and gave her some decongestants before she got on the plane, and she kissed him good-bye, still looking miserable. And he looked even worse when he went back to the apartment. It was a lonely life for him now, and missing her was almost a physical ache. He lay in their bed and nearly cried when he smelled her perfume and shampoo on his pillow.