KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (30 page)

I felt a sweat break on my brow, and I cranked up the A/C.

Six. Pay attention.

A series of gruesome images fought for my attention, but I gripped the wheel and drove, checking my mirrors almost constantly.

Five. Four. Three.

Don’t let her get hurt.

Two. One.

I regulated my breathing and distracted my mind away from my worrisome thoughts—best I could—until we were off the highway and onto a less congested street.

Zero. We were safe.

As I saw the sign for the restaurant approach, I realized if she’d been talking, then I hadn’t heard anything she said for probably the last fifteen miles.

I looked at my watch, at least we were on time.

“Are you all right?” she asked when I helped her out of her side of the car. Tension in her forehead, concerned eyes.

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.” I was now that we were there, and I could breathe again. My chest wasn’t nearly as tight, nor did it feel like I was on fire anymore.

That one was probably the worst episode I’d had in the past few years. I needed to start taking my medication again. Even if I hated how it made everything seem dull, it was better than losing my fucking mind.

“Okay, you just looked lost there for a while,” she said and didn’t let go of my hand as we walked into the restaurant.

I loathed my anxiety even more because she’d noticed it.

Surprisingly, she didn’t know much about the food they were serving. The waiter told us about their specials, and after telling him we needed a minute, she said, “Okay, we can do this a few ways.”

I tipped my head, ready for her suggestion. “I’m listening,” I replied. I had bigger issues to discuss, dinner was the least of my worries.

“We could order a bunch of stuff and share it, or I’ll order for you and you can order for me.”

Ordering a little of everything reminded me of the way my family dined out. Maybe next time. The other approach seemed more fitting.

Was that her way of symbolically replying to my gesture of trust? I was probably reading too much into it, but I went with it.

I opened my menu and asked, “Anything you don’t like?”

She looked me in the eye. “Not so far,” she said.

Oh, I’m on to you, baby.

I ordered her seafood pasta; she ordered me a funky version of chicken parmesan. We got a bottle of wine, but I’d decided to save most of my glass for the meal. I took a long drink of water and placed it back on the small two-person bistro table.

“Thank you for the flowers today,” she praised, and the foot she had crossed over her other grazed my leg under the table.

“You’re welcome. How did they smell?”

“Citrusy and sweet. They were very thoughtful.” She unrolled her napkin, placing the linen on her lap, then began buttering a piece of bread from the center of the table.

Instead of eating it, she handed it to me. Without much effort, she charmed me.

“Thank you.” I took her offering gladly.

Our date was starting off well, despite how the drive here went and how it might end. I’d initially wanted to have a discussion, ask her many things about how she lived, and inquire about what she normally expected out of a relationship, but, sitting there, it didn’t feel right.

“I had a really great time last night, too,” she offered, a glowing blush colored her cheeks.

This
. This was where she was timid with me, and it made me wonder.

“Nora, are you being yourself around me?”

“Yes,” she answered speculatively and bit into a piece of bread.

“Good. I am, too. It’s different from what I’m used to, but still, I’m being honest.” It didn’t really have to be this hard.

She sipped her wine. “Me, too,” she replied.

I felt like a bird on a wire, cautious to step forward, but I took a leap of faith. “I’m pretty sure this is new for both of us. I know no book will ever explain to me what you want. What you need. What you desire. And I don’t want there to be.” I wrung my hands under the table to help dispel the nervous energy. “What I’m trying to say is, yes we could talk until we’re blue in the face, but neither of us has any experience with this.”

She licked her finger, and I momentarily lost my train of thought.

“I agree. Everyone is different,” she acknowledged.

“Right. So I propose this,” I began and sat up straight, she leaned in giving me her full attention. “As long as we’re always honest, and we’re both interested in seeing what this is all about, I say let’s just go with it.”

She took a deep breath and sat back a little.

Finally, she countered, “I don’t know. Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?”

Dangerous for whom?

“Not if we’re honest. We’re both adults. We can communicate. When you want or need something, whatever it is, I need you to tell me. We’ll deal with things as they come.”

Nora didn’t look very convinced, and she ran her finger around her wine glass. “I don’t like being bossed around, and I like my space.”

Was she trying to convince me I didn’t want her? That’s not exactly how I thought this would go. Was she worried I’d smother her?

However, if we were voicing our issues, it was a good time to lay mine down, too. “I can’t handle thinking you’re with someone else if you’re not. If you decided to do anything, romantically, I have to know. I’ll try not to be bossy, but you have to let me know if you want something more
plural
than just me.”

Her leg began to bounce. This conversation was never going to be easy, but it was inevitable. “Reagan, that’s cheating. I don’t cheat. That’s not what poly means to me. It’s not just some excuse for me to be a whore.”

My intention wasn’t to offend her, and I reviled the debased look on her face.

The waiter returned with our salads, and I waited until he walked away before I continued, appreciating the extra time to think about how to articulate myself properly. I modified my tone, I didn’t want to be abrasive.

“That isn’t what I mean. And after some serious reflection, I can admit that I’m at very least interested in trying things with you. I don’t know what my comfort level will be when it actually happens—that’s the truth, Nora. That’s what I can tell you right now, as of tonight. I want to be considered if you decide to be intimate with anyone else. Not because I’m trying to change you, because I’ve also thought a lot about that, and that’s not what I want either. I need to have all of the details.”

She took a drink of her wine, then went on to finish the glass. Since she wasn’t driving, I refilled it for her, but she stopped me short of her normal rim-full allotment.

We ate, and things were quiet.

The terms had been laid out. If she had any, I hoped she’d let me in on them. This would only really work if she was as transparent with me as I was with her. All she had to do was say no.

“What if I say no?”

Well fuck.

I stopped chewing and wiped my mouth to answer. I expected my genuine honesty would be tested, and there it was.

“I’d be extremely disappointed. I want to get to know you better. I’ve never met anyone like you, and that’s both challenging and refreshing. You’re breathtaking. Smart and interesting. You’re sexy, and every second I was inside of you last night felt like winning. I really want to try this. If none of that works for you—hell, if only some of that works for you—then say no. I can’t stop you, and I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t want me back.”

“But I
do
want you back,” she declared.

Hearing it was incredible, but her actions were louder. I needed her to say it and mean it. I wasn’t sure she was even convincing herself. “Then why do you look like you’re
still
trying to find reasons we can’t work, instead of trying to find ways we can?”

She ran her slender fingers over her neck and stared at the table, gathering herself for a moment. “I’m afraid I won’t be very good to you,” she admitted, vulnerability stealing half her voice.

I’d asked for honesty, but I didn’t know what to do with so much of it.

She didn’t think she could please me? How had she failed to please me so far?

My hand reached out for hers nearest to me. “Do you
want
to be good to me?”

“I want to try,” she confessed. It was a precarious look on her face. One part confident, one part the opposite.

I added, “Well, let
me
know when you feel like you need help being good to me, and I’ll let
you
know how.”

That earned me a winsome chuckle. “Sure. It’s just that simple.” She mocked, “As if relationships are like that.
Hey doll, what can I do to make you happy?
”

“Why can’t they be?” I argued. It was the simplest, most efficient way. “Nora, monogamous people and polyamorous people rarely find themselves in this position. It’s not typical or even ideal, but this is what it is. We do this until we can’t or don’t want to.”

The last part tasted lousy on my lips.

Her head tilted. “What is this? Exactly?”

She wanted a definition? Fine. I had one.

“Well, here’s where I can compromise. We’ll be lovers. It’s obviously a term you’re comfortable with, and I actually think I’d like to hear you tell someone that.”

“Who?” she asked, grinning.

“I don’t care. Anyone.”

The young boy who’d been clearing tables happened by. “Excuse me,” she said. “He’s my lover.”

He nodded at me. “Nice.”

“I’ll take the check,” I told him.

“So, from friends to lovers,” she surmised, running her napkin through her fingers.

Progress.

Thankfully, by the time we were leaving, traffic was much better on the way back downtown.

I dropped her off at the door. It wasn’t tremendously far from the garage, but those shoes looked almost torturous.

“So this is the end of the date?” she asked. “That’s kind of anti-climactic. And after all of that talking, too.” Her face spoke to the truth behind her words. She was trying to be a shit, and I loved it. Playing with her was fun, and the more she did it, the more I got to see that little smile she liked to ration.

“This date isn’t over, baby,” I said and leaned into her. “I put my spare key on your keyring last night. Now go use it, and I’ll park the car.”

Her face turned to me, some of the playfulness gone, but it was replaced with passion. As much as she
said
she didn’t like when I talked to her like that, I knew better.

She might have been honest with me, but she was lying to herself.

She’d get there.

NORA—Wednesday, August 27, 2008

F
inally, I was there. I was running behind.

I walked into the bistro and saw Janel right away. We were having lunch together, I’d barely seen her all summer even though we were in the same town.

“Hey, stranger,” she said as I approached the small table. Her smile was radiant, and she beamed.

“Hi,” I said as I sat down, which signaled the waiter to get my drink order. “Ice tea with lemon, please.”

“So how is work?” she asked and opened her menu. Even if we’d been busy lately, we had still always found time to call or text. I’d been busy with work. Busy with Reagan. The weeks had flown by.