All Night Woman: A Contemporary Romance (3 page)

He sighed.  When was the last time a woman had been genuinely interested in him?  Hell, when was the last time a woman had wanted more from him than the pleasure he could give her?  When was the last time a woman had wanted to get to know him?

The fact that he couldn’t answer that was answer enough.  He snorted.  And women said they were the ones objectified.

Miles forced those depressing thoughts aside and stared out of the window as the Boeing climbed higher and higher until nothing but clouds were visible.  It never got old.  Even though he had already been well into adulthood the first time he stepped foot on a plane, he still felt the excitement of a little boy who spent untold hours building models of them in his room.

What had happened to that boy, he wondered?  The one who smiled because he was genuinely happy, instead of because it was expected.  Miles couldn’t even remember what that was like.  Unplanned parenthood at an early age, an unhappy marriage, and the stark reality of giving up your dreams to put food on the table and pay the rent - those things had a way of sucking childish fantasies and happily ever afters right down the toilet.

It was pointless to waste time on what-if’s.  He knew that, and tried to avoid doing so whenever possible.  But there were times, like this, when he was confined to a small space with plenty of time on his hands and nothing to do but think.

What if, instead of pressuring Mandy after the night of the senior prom, they had waited, like she’d wanted to?  What if the condom hadn’t broken?  What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant?

The answers hadn’t changed since the last time he’d played this game.  He wouldn’t have had to give up his Engineering scholarship.  He wouldn’t have had to work three jobs to support Mandy and the baby.  He couldn’t even remember his twenties; the whole decade was a blur of long hours of work and a marriage that, had they waited, would have never happened.

Miles snorted quietly to himself.  At eighteen, he had thought he was in love.  Maybe he was, once.  But Mandy never forgave him for screwing up her life – he wasn’t the only one with a scholarship.  And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he busted his ass trying to make a good life for them, it was never enough.

The only good thing that came out of that night was Brandon.  No matter what, Miles could never regret his son.  The kid was handsome, smart, and, despite everything, had a good head on his shoulders.  He only wished he’d been around for more of Brandon’s childhood.

Oh, they’d had some time.  Miles made Brandon’s baseball games when he could.  Sometimes, once he started getting better jobs, he would get home early enough to help him with some of his homework.  And then, when Brandon was older, they volunteered together at the local fire company. 

But as the years went on and he and Mandy grew farther and farther apart, Miles didn’t spend as much time at home.  More often than not, Brandon was out with his friends – he was a popular kid – and whatever he and Mandy had once had long since burned itself out.  So he sought solace elsewhere.  He wasn’t proud of it, but he wasn’t going to deny it, either.

Mandy found out, of course.  Maybe, subconsciously he had wanted her to.  The divorce papers were served shortly afterward.  He had signed them right away, not even interested in trying to make it work.  It wouldn’t.  He cared for Mandy and always would, but too much had happened for it to be any other way.  The truth of it was, they never should have gotten married in the first place.  They’d been too young.  Too stupid.  Too goddamned naïve.

The attendant returned with a drink for Miles and a tempting offer.  He accepted the Scotch, but declined the offer, softening the rejection by taking her private number and letting her think he’d call. 

Watching the hypnotic sway of her ass as she continued down the aisle, he had to wonder what the hell was wrong with him.

H
ome at last.
  Liz breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.  She liked her job, but there were times – like this past week – when she really wished she was independently wealthy and could just say the hell with it.

Removing her snow-dusted hat and coat, she hung both on the old-fashioned coat rack, then kicked off her functional faux-fur lined boots on the rubber mat.  Her laptop case went right into the small foyer closet; she wasn’t going to open it again until she had to drag herself back into the office first thing Monday morning.

With the press of a button, the apartment filled with the sounds of soft rock.  Liz poured herself a glass of wine and then proceeded to her bedroom to shed her casual business attire – a soft gray pencil skirt and matching blazer teamed with a silky burgundy blouse.  Dressed in only her Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, she eyed herself critically in the full length mirror.

“Not bad for an old broad,” she murmured, turning this way and that.  She was still in pretty good shape, having kept up with regular workouts, lots of yoga, and watching her diet.  Sure, she’d had to all but give up carbs, but it was a small price to pay when her contemporaries were wearing granny panties and she was still rocking the bikinis.  So what if she needed a little extra support in her push-up?  In less than a week, she would be turning thirty-five. 

Thirty-five.
  The age at which any pregnancy would automatically be deemed high-risk.

Not that she planned on getting pregnant any time soon.  Her sex life was all but non-existent, the last time being a wholly unsatisfying experience almost three years earlier, and she wasn’t anywhere close to being in a committed relationship, but still.  It was a biological mile-post draped in black cloth with a sign that read “Middle Age” in Gothic script. 

She slipped on some loose-fitting harem pants and an oversized V-necked T.  If she turned diagonally and lifted her chin at just the right angle, she could pass for twenty-nine for a little while longer.  She practiced a few times to commit the pose to muscle-memory, then realized how ridiculous she was being and stopped.

Why was this birthday bothering her so much anyway, she wondered?  She’d turned thirty without blinking an eye.

You know why
, a little voice inside her said.

Yeah, she did.  Because now that Holly was getting married, their spinsterhood club was down to one member.  Liz was the sole holdout in a world of spoken-for women.

It wasn’t so bad, she told herself as she padded into the kitchen and began chopping up an assortment of veggies.  She liked who she was.  She had a good job.  She wasn’t rich, by any means, but her generous salary and lack of dependents allowed her to live comfortably. 

Plus she had this great condo, decorated exactly as she liked it.  She didn’t have to worry about the same things so many other women were constantly bitching about at the office.  Things like child-proofing the cabinets or keeping breakables out of reach; trying to find ways to discreetly dispose of their husbands’ garage-sale treasures, or dealing with in-laws.  She could eat what she wanted when she wanted, take off for a long weekend on a whim, and indulge in hour-long baths with a good book and a glass of wine – or not, she thought, remembering last Sunday’s debacle.

Yep.  She had no reason to complain.

But she would give it all up in a heartbeat for the right one.  Her mind wandered to the financial analyst with the bedroom eyes and great butt.  Could he be Mr. Right?  At this point, she would settle for Mr. Maybe. 

Liz tossed the diced peppers, squash, parsnips, sweet potatoes, mushrooms, and black olives with some herbed olive oil, then sprinkled in some chia and hemp seeds for a little extra fiber.  Spreading it all out on a baking sheet, she popped it into the oven to roast, then poured another glass of wine and checked her machine.  While she did carry a mobile with her for emergencies, Liz refused to turn it on.  She didn’t
want
to be accessible 24/7.

The first message made her smile.  “Pumpkin?  It’s Dad....” There was a long pause, then, “Damn it, this is the machine, isn’t it?  Call me when you get this.  Nothing urgent, so stop worrying.”

He knew her so well.  She didn’t think for a moment he was calling with early birthday wishes; her father hadn’t remembered her birthday in years.  These days, he didn’t always remember he had a daughter.

The next was an automated reminder for her annual gyno exam next week (she scowled), followed by one for her mammogram.  Liz confirmed both were on her calendar.

The third message was far more interesting.  “Hey Liz, it’s Holly.  Don’t forget, I’m taking you somewhere special Saturday night for your birthday.  Start saving ones and fives.”  The message ended with Holly cackling wickedly.

Liz laughed out loud.  Their Girls Nights Out had been a weekly tradition spanning several years now, begun when she and Holly worked together in the same IT department.  Holly had since resigned, opting to pursue her writing career full time, but they had vowed not to lose touch.  Usually their get-togethers were limited to dinner on Tuesday nights, or an occasional FTW (fuck-the-world) fest of ice-cream and a marathon of hot-guy movies when one of them was going through a particularly rough patch, but birthdays were special.  The only rule was that one could not publicize or announce that it was the other’s birthday; beyond that anything went.

Would that change now that Holly was getting married?  God, she hoped not.  Holly was the best friend she’d ever had.  They could – and often did – talk about everything.  From the most effective sexual aids to politics and religion, no subject was taboo.

Liz’s smile faded.  She would never admit it to Holly, but she was a little worried.  Everything was moving so fast.  Sure, Adam seemed like a great guy and everything, but getting engaged after only a couple of months?  And that was elapsed time.  For a good part of that time, they hadn’t spoken to or seen each other. 

Holly called Adam her Five Minute Man, a euphemistic phrase they’d come up with to describe that one man capable of pushing all of your buttons in a way no one else could.  For Holly’s sake, she hoped that their so-called seamless compatibility extended beyond the bedroom.  Great sex was great, but it wasn’t everything.

We’d take it
, her girlie parts piped up. 

The oven timer dinged, interrupting her musings.  Donning silicone mitts, Liz pulled the roasted veggies from the oven and grated some fresh parmesan over the top.  She scooped some onto a plate, then took it into her living room.  With her feet propped up on the coffee table, she flicked off the stereo and fired up her HD flat-screen and DVR to watch the latest
Outlander
.

Yep, she sighed, sinking back into the cushions.  Life was good.  Lonely sometimes, but good.

* * *

T
he trans-Atlantic flight was just as exhausting as ever.  For as many times as he’d flown, Miles had never really learned to relax on a plane.  Landing in Philly didn’t improve his mood any, either.  Miles had nothing against the city, but wrangling I-95 and the Schuylkill Expressway at rush hour was a bitch and a half. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it past the Lansdale exit on the Northeast Extension of the PA Turnpike and traffic finally began to thin out to a less knuckle-whitening flow.  As he continued north, he opened the windows and drew the fresh, snow-and-mountain-scented air into his lungs.  The cold air wrapped around him, but he didn’t mind.  Even though he had grown up in the Catskills, the Pocono Mountains were close enough that it felt like home to him.

By the time he drove over the last crest and saw the sparkling valley spread out below, he felt almost like his old self again.  He told himself that he’d come back for Adam, but maybe he needed this, too – a break from the fast-paced, dog-eat-dog world of sales and marketing (what he called the true S&M).  A few days off with his brother to relax and rewind and find out what the hell Adam was thinking were exactly what the doctor ordered.

Thankful that he’d gone the extra mile and rented a four-wheel drive vehicle, he crunched his way over packed ice and snow into Adam’s driveway.  It had been a hell of a long trip, and the snow that had started falling in earnest hadn’t helped.  Thank God for the satellite-based GPS navigation system.  Between the narrow mountain roads and the total lack of street lights, Miles wasn’t sure he would have been able to find the place otherwise.

Smoke curled up from the chimney and enough lights were on for him to know someone was home.  Relief washed over him.  In retrospect, he probably should have called first. 

Unfolding himself from the vehicle, Miles took a minute to stretch, then grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door.  A low, vicious-sounding bark emanated from inside within seconds of him ringing the doorbell.  Adam had gotten a dog? 

“Dad!” Brandon said in surprise when he answered the door, holding back a large, furry creature that looked like something right out of
The Omen
.  Mismatched eyes stared at him from within a mask of black.  “Max, down, boy.  What are you doing here?”

“Freezing my ass off at the moment.  Christ, I forgot how cold it got here.  Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

“Yeah, sorry.  Come on in.”  Brandon held Max back so Miles could enter.  “This is Max, by the way.  He’s really friendly.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Miles said, eyeing the dog skeptically.

“Seriously.  Just let him sniff your hand and you’re golden.”

Miles extended his hand, palm down.  Max dutifully checked him out, nudging his hand and giving it a good sniff.  He must have passed muster, because the dog’s tail started wagging and the growling became a soft pant. 

“So when did you get a dog?” 

“I didn’t.  Or rather, Uncle Adam didn’t.  We’re dog-sitting for the night.  I can’t believe you’re here.  Wait – did something happen?”

Miles winced inwardly at the concerned look his son gave him.  It was his own fault that his son’s first thought was that Miles had only come because something bad had happened.  “Nothing is wrong.  I had a few days off, thought I’d see if you still liked the slopes.”