They were now two houses down from Angela’s parents’ house, and had stopped running as they continued to chat.
“So where do you live these days?” inquired Dwayne. “You’re not still here in Carmel, are you?”
Angela shuddered. “God, no. Oh, I like Carmel just fine, just not living – here.” She indicated the house. “I’m only home for the holiday. I actually live and work in San Francisco now.”
She told him about her job and her flat, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
“You always were really good at math as I recall,” he replied. “I’ll bet you’re incredibly successful at what you do. I’d, uh, love to discuss it with you sometime – the stock market, that is.”
“Sure, we could do that. Where are you living now?” she asked, feeling oddly at ease with a guy she hadn’t seen in over seven years, and whom she hadn’t exactly known very well in school.
Dwayne looked a bit uncertain. “Eugene, Oregon, actually. That’s where Nike has a big training facility. I share a house with a bunch of other track people, but I also travel a lot during track season – mostly in Europe.”
“So you don’t get down this way very often?”
He shook his head. “A few times a year to visit my family is all. But, ah, I usually always fly into San Francisco when I do, so maybe we could meet up for coffee or lunch sometime?”
The polite but firm brush-off Angela usually gave to the few men who tried to ask her out these days froze on her lips. The hopeful puppy dog look on Dwayne’s face touched something in her, made her smile in a way she hadn’t done in a very long time. He was such a nice, genuine guy, clearly still awkward and goofy, that she found herself replying, “I’d really like that, Dwayne.”
The grin he gave her threatened to split his face in half and made him look oddly appealing. “Wow, that would be great, Angela! In fact, how long are you staying in Carmel this weekend?”
She’d had more than half a thought about leaving early tomorrow morning, even though she knew such a decision would be met with disapproval from the family. Now, she impulsively told Dwayne, “Sometime on Saturday, I think. I’m not exactly sure when.”
His grin grew even wider. “Would you – that is, how about if we met up sometime tomorrow? Like for coffee or lunch? We could even do another run together in the morning and then have breakfast. Unless,” he added soberly, as though the idea had just occurred to him, “you’re here with a boyfriend or something. Or have other plans with your family.”
Angela gave him a reassuring smile. “No, to both questions. No current boyfriend and no plans with the family. I’d love to meet up for another run and then maybe grab coffee afterwards. I’m, uh, not much of a breakfast eater.”
His gaze traveled quizzically, assessingly, up and down the tall, skinny length of her body, and, rather amazingly, he blushed. She wasn’t sure when the last time a guy had actually blushed in her presence – if ever – had been but if so it had surely been way back in grade school.
“Yeah, you’re, uh, slimmer than I remember from high school,” Dwayne replied tactfully. “Guess you must run an awful lot of miles. You’re about the same build as a couple of the female marathon runners in my training group.”
“I’ve actually taken it to the next level and started running ultras,” she told him. “Kind of crazy, huh? At least, that’s what most peoples’ reaction is when I tell them I’ve run a fifty mile race.”
Dwayne shrugged. “Not crazy, just different. But, seriously, Angela, if you’re doing that sort of mileage you really need to keep up your calorie intake. I, uh, majored in nutritional sciences at school, figure on becoming a dietician when this high jump thing eventually ends for me. We could – that is, if you want to – discuss a good nutrition plan for you sometime.”
She scuffled the heel of her shoe against the curb, gazing downward. Discussing her drastic weight loss was never easy for her and usually put her on the defensive. But once again Dwayne sounded so sincere, so caring and just so
nice
that it was downright impossible to feel any sort of annoyance or anger at him.
“Maybe,” was all she mumbled in reply. “And, well, that’s nice of you to offer. It’s just – food and I – we have sort of a weird relationship these days. But I’m not anorexic, despite what everyone thinks. I just – well, it’s complicated.”
Dwayne gave her shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Okay. Maybe you’ll feel like talking about it one of these days. In the meanwhile, why don’t you give me your number?”
Angela hesitated briefly before reciting her cell phone number and email address, watching as he entered both into his phone. She told herself firmly that agreeing to meet Dwayne for a run and coffee didn’t constitute an actual date. This was Dwayne Conroy, after all, “Dwayne the Dweeb” that she’d known in high school. He was just a guy, an old school mate, and it was just coffee. There was no need to panic, she reminded herself, no cause to be alarmed despite the fact that she hadn’t been out with any male in more than three years.
Oh, Lauren and Julia had both done their damndest to, as they’d so succinctly put it, “get her out there”. Julia had moved back to San Francisco almost a year ago and was occupying the flat just below hers. She was also dating a seriously gorgeous guy – the co-owner of the firm she worked at – and had tried on numerous occasions to fix Angela up with one of Nathan’s friends. Julia, who was admittedly a fantastic cook, also tried on a regular basis to make Angela eat more. Thus far, her efforts on both counts had been largely unsuccessful.
And Lauren, whenever she happened to be in San Francisco, practically manhandled her – not an easy feat, considering the eight inch difference in their height – to go out to dinner or dancing or drinking – usually all three. She continued to bully Angela to move on, find someone else, enjoy life again.
Thus far, however, Angela had continued to resist getting involved with another guy, whether it be a full-fledged relationship or simply a meaningless one night stand. She was surprised – given her gaunt frame and total indifference to her appearance – when men still approached her at clubs or bars, leading her to wonder just how desperate some of them were.
But now she sensed it wasn’t like that with Dwayne, that his intent in befriending her wasn’t solely to get her in bed. He was just, she realized with something of a shock, being a good guy.
And as she let herself inside the house, a rare smile crossed her features as she realized it had been a long, long time since she’d felt like this – like maybe, just maybe, life could be worth living again.
April, Present Day
The view of the San Francisco Bay and Sausalito harbor from the back deck had been one of the primary reasons Nick had bought this grand home nearly a decade ago. There were other reasons, of course – its size and spaciousness; the clean, sleek lines of its design; the complete privacy it afforded him; and its close proximity to San Francisco, just a quick drive across the Golden Gate Bridge. But if pressed to pick the one thing that had really sealed the deal for him when it had come time to make a final decision, the view had very likely been the deal maker.
He stood at the deck railing now, cradling a glass of merlot in his hand as he watched the sun begin to set over the harbor. The dozens of houseboats and other sailing craft moored there were all beginning to turn their lights on, creating something of a fairytale atmosphere, and from a distance he could glimpse both tourists and locals alike as they strolled along Bridgeway, the main thoroughfare in town where most of the shops and restaurants were located.
He had felt an affinity with this house the moment he’d walked inside accompanied by the real estate agent, and knew he had to have it. Over the years the house, with its stellar waterfront views and sheltered back deck and garden, had become far more than a home to him. This was his private place, his sanctuary, and he could count on one hand the number of people he had ever invited inside – just his parents and a couple of very close friends. And he’d never, ever, brought a woman here, refusing to share his sacred space with any of the ones he’d had brief, fleeting relationships with. And, even though they’d been together for nearly a year, he’d never brought Angela here, either.
“Fuck.”
His breath expelled in a sigh of frustration as he realized where his thoughts were taking him once again. Ever since he’d seen her earlier today it had been nearly impossible to get her out of his head. A whole gamut of emotions had been twisting him into knots for hours now, emotions that he’d rarely if ever allowed himself to feel. For the most part, Nick had lived his life without a single regret, had never permitted himself to look back and wish he’d done something differently, and he’d certainly never felt the least bit guilty about the choices he’d made. With one exception to all of these things – namely, Angela Del Carlo.
He’d struggled with the guilt for years now, ever since the night he’d cruelly broken things off with her, had practically pushed her out of his car. He had forced himself to harden his heart on that awful night, to block out the sounds of her pitiful sobs and desperate pleas to give her another chance. It had been the only way he’d been able to actually go through with it, to end the relationship he should have never entered into in the first place.
But the guilt and regret he’d experienced during these past few years were nothing compared to the overwhelming remorse that he’d felt the moment he had seen Angela again today. She’d born little resemblance to the sultry, sexy beauty who’d more or less been his sexual slave for nearly a year. Little by little he’d deliberately molded her to fit his picture of the ideal woman – urging her to put on weight so that she’d have curves in exactly the right places; picking out the sort of clothing for her that he found the most alluring; teaching her exactly how to please him in bed. The image of how she’d looked that last night was burned into his memory banks, never to be forgotten – the way her long, dark hair had fallen in shimmering waves nearly to her waist; how that white dress had clung to her sleek, toned curves and bared a great deal of those gorgeous, shapely legs; how her beautiful dark eyes and wide, full-lipped mouth had been perfectly made up, not overdone or flashy, but just enough to enhance her natural beauty.
But the woman he’d seen today was nothing like the beautiful, passionate woman who’d been his lover once upon a time. The woman who’d stood across that desk, staring at him with an empty, soulless expression, was a shadow of her former self – in more ways than one. Painfully thin now, practically a goddamned walking skeleton, her ugly pantsuit had hung loosely on her emaciated frame. Her once glowing complexion was sallow, her cheekbones hollowed out and her big eyes sunken in. She hadn’t worn a scrap of makeup, and there had been dark circles under her eyes. Her hair had been ruthlessly scraped back into a knot, and at first glance he hadn’t noticed her wearing any jewelry at all, not even a watch.
But it had been the look in her eyes – or lack thereof – that had really disturbed him. Her voice had sounded hollow and lifeless, and Angela herself looked like all the life had been sucked out of her.
And then there had been her hands – their extreme iciness startling - and he’d had to force himself not to flinch when he’d touched her. She’d always had such soft, warm hands, and he’d loved the feel of them as they’d caressed every inch of his body. Now they were as pale and bony as the rest of her, and their coldness made him worry that she was sick. Or anorexic.
Nick reached for the bottle of wine he’d left on the deck table, grimacing slightly when he noticed how much of it he’d already consumed. But, what the hell, he thought in disgust. He needed something to help numb these feelings of guilt that were threatening to choke him. He’d never imagined that Angela wouldn’t get over him, wouldn’t have moved on a long time ago. She’d been so young, had so much going for her – beauty, brains, ambition. He’d been shocked to learn she had pretty much just up and left Jessup Prior, leaving behind an impressive book of clients – many of whom he’d directed her way – and started from scratch at Morton Sterling. And then to learn she’d chosen to work with a soul-sucking bitch like Barbara Lowenstein rather than remain in the same office as himself – well, that had really made him feel like shit. He had never meant to drive her away, to make things so painful that she’d had no other choice but to leave her job.
Nick gave himself a mental kick in the ass when he recalled the last time he’d seen Angela before today – at another of those useless office meetings. He’d known she would be there, had been half afraid that she would try to approach him, and had wanted to avoid an awkward scene at all costs. So he’d been even more of a prick than he’d already been to her and looked right past her as though she hadn’t existed. It was ironic that he’d never had a problem blowing off women in the past, but when he’d had to do the same to Angela he’d felt like the biggest asshole in the history of the world.
In fact, he realized in disgust as he took a slow sip of wine, he’d been a total, complete, and revolting asshole to her during the entire duration of their relationship. When he’d laid out his admittedly ridiculous conditions to her that night at the Biltmore, he had never really believed she’d accept. And when she had agreed, he had certainly never expected it to last for more than a month or two. The fact that she’d hung in there for so long continued to amaze him, and made him realize just how strong willed she really was.