“I think I had more fun than he did tonight. He's a great kid.” Peter smiled lovingly at me, and pulled me closer to him on the couch.
“He said pretty much the same thing about you before he went to sleep, and I agree with him. Thanks for saving the day for us. Better than that. Thanks for saving my life.”
“Anytime,” he swept a quick bow from where he sat on the couch, “Robin at your service.” He kissed me then, and his kisses tasted of Hershey bars and KitKats. I like that in a man. There was a lot I liked about Peter that night, and I fell in love with him all over again.
I met Peter's son on Thanksgiving, who was appropriately suspicious of me, and as rude as he dared to be, which was comforting. It reminded me of Charlotte with him in the beginning. She had long since come to the conclusion that Peter was boring, but harmless. And Sam truly liked him, especially after Halloween.
It was in early December that Peter told me he was going back to California for two weeks again. He hadn't been there in nearly three months. And as he said it, I was almost afraid to ask the obvious question. He didn't volunteer anything, and I didn't dare ask. I took him to the airport in the Jaguar, which had been repainted, again, by then. He had had it restored to silver. Its brief moment of canary yellow never saw the light of day. He never let it leave the shop that way, which somehow seemed a pity to me. Paul had thought it a terrific color, and had chosen it carefully, thinking Peter would like it. But as in everything else, nothing but their looks were the same.
Peter kissed me lovingly when I left him at the airport, and told me not to be lonely, and keep busy while he was gone. There were a slew of early Christmas parties we were invited to, and he urged me to go to all of them. I told him I wasn't sure I wanted to and mulled it over, as I drove back into the city. I didn't want to go to the parties without him. I was almost sorry he hadn't sent me the Klone this time, or promised to. I missed the Klone. It would have been a good time to have him around. But the last visit obviously had bothered Peter. And this time as he left, Peter said nothing about the Klone coming to see me, and I didn't ask. I think Peter was sorry about ever sending me the Klone in the first place. He had never mentioned him again, and I'd gotten the impression that he felt the first visit had gotten out of hand.
I was cooking dinner for the kids that night, when the doorman buzzed and said something had arrived, so when the doorbell rang, I sent Sam to answer to see what it was, and he returned to the kitchen with a broad smile.
“What is it?” I had told him not to open the door until he looked through the peephole.
“It's not what, it's who,” he said with a knowing look, and then was quick to explain. “It's Peter, he's back, and he looks like he's in a good mood again. I guess he didn't go to California after all.” Just listening to what Sam said, I wondered. I put the spatula down that I'd been brandishing, and ran to the door, still in my apron. I was wearing jeans and an old sweater. I opened the door, and then I saw him standing there, with stacks of purple alligator suitcases all around him. It was Paul, and he was beaming at me. He had clearly conned the doorman into letting him come up unannounced. He always tipped them well.
He was wearing chartreuse satin disco pants, and a mink jacket, and peeking through it I could see no shirt at all, only his bare chest, and his diamond peace sign shimmering at me.
“Merry Christmas!” were the first words he said to me, and then he kissed me with unbridled passion.
“Wow!” I whispered, looking him over carefully. He hadn't changed a bit in three months. It could have been Peter, but I knew it was Paul, back from wherever he had been to have his wires polished up, and his chips replaced. God only knew what they did now. But I was thrilled to see him. “How have you been?” I suddenly realized how much I had missed him. More than I would ever have admitted to Peter, or even to myself.
“I've been bored as hell, thanks a lot. I spent three months with my head off. I didn't even know he was going away again. They just told me this morning. I came as soon as they called.”
“I think he decided on short notice,” I whispered. And I was happier to see him than I knew I should be. The last three months with Peter had been wonderful … but Paul brought with him something magical, and very different. A kind of madness blessed by outrageous spirits and kissed by elves. He was wearing yellow alligator cowboy boots, and when he took the mink jacket off, I could see he had on a tiny black see-through undershirt, covered in rhinestones. He looked very festive, and happy to see me.
He hugged both of the kids, and Charlotte rolled her eyes at him, and said, “Now what? Are you on one of your crazy kicks again, Peter?” But she grinned at him. She liked it when he got a little crazy. And Sam giggled at the outfit, as Paul poured himself half a glass of bourbon. This time he knew where I kept it, and took it out of the cupboard with a grin, and a wink at the kids.
“Are you staying with us again?” Sam inquired, looking amused. The last time “Peter” had looked like that, he had stayed in our guest room for two weeks. He thought the yellow cowboy boots were a little silly. But Peter was his buddy, and had been for months, in khaki pants, or chartreuse satin. They were growing accustomed to what they thought were his mood swings and his fluctuating taste in clothing. And as though to confirm that to me, Charlotte whispered to me when he walked out of the kitchen with Sam.
“Mom, he needs Prozac. One minute he's all quiet and serious and wants to play Scrabble with Sam, and the next minute he walks in, acting like Mick Jagger, and dressed like Prince.”
“I know, darling, he's under a lot of pressure at work. People express it differently. I think dressing like that relieves some of the stress for him.”
“I'm not sure which way I like him better. I've kind of gotten used to him looking normal. This is a little embarrassing. Last time I thought it was cool, now I think it looks silly.” She was growing up, and I smiled at her.
“He'll get over it again in a couple of weeks, Char. I promise.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged and took the salad out to the table. Paul was already sitting there with Sam, and regaled all of us with outrageous stories of meetings he had disrupted with whoopee cushions and live frogs over the years. It was a side of him that Sam particularly loved, and I found myself staring at him. Like Charlotte, I had gotten used to Peter, and now seeing Paul again was a little confusing. I wasn't sure I was up to another two weeks of intense ecstasy and the quadruple flip. In my heart of hearts, I had come to love Peter's quieter ways better. And in his own way, he was twice as sexy as Paul. Paul took a lot of energy, and he consumed enough bourbon for the entire state of Nebraska. I didn't even have champagne in the house for him. He asked for dessert, but settled for half a bottle of Yquem that was still left over from the last time.
He taught Sam how to play poker that night, and played liar's dice with Charlotte after that, and after they had both beaten him, they went to bed, still amused at how he was behaving. He had told them that he decided not to go to California. He claimed he was staying with us because he had lent his apartment to friends from London. Paul was very considerate about explaining things to the kids, so they wouldn't know the truth about him, or that Peter was gone.
But once the kids were in bed, I was honest with him, and told him what I was thinking.
“Paul, I'm not sure you should stay here. Things have gotten serious with Peter in the last few months. I don't think he'd like it.” More importantly, I didn't think I would. This was just too confusing for me.
“This was his idea, Steph. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't sent me. I got the call from his office.” That surprised me. He hadn't seemed all that pleased about what happened when he sent the Klone in September. “He expects us to be together while he's away.”